


Benefits

by Vozana666



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 39,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3149882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vozana666/pseuds/Vozana666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy has been working for The Daily Prophet since he left Hogwarts and his boss, Barnabas Cuffe has recently told him that the ministry is aiming to deport all Death Eaters to separate countries, all outside of the UK. The only way Draco can stay in the UK is if he's engaged, married, or with family.</p><p>Harry Potter's friends keep trying to hook him up with numerous friends, but he's not ready to date after the fiasco that his last relationship was. Admittedly he needs someone; just not for romance.</p><p>Draco and Harry meet at a nightclub; both with their way outs standing right in front of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Benefits

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

“You need someone Harry,” Hermione was saying while eating her Chicken Parmigana. They were sitting outside a small cafe that Hermione had discovered on her way home from the Ministry one day. Ron was sitting next to her, hoeing into a pasta dish.

 

“I don’t need anyone,” Harry said, spinning his fork around his own pasta dish, not exactly feeling hungry anymore, “why does everyone keep saying that?”

 

Ron rolled his eyes, “because, you’re famous and the fact that you haven’t got a love interest is considered weird.”

 

Hermione puffed out her cheeks, ignoring Ron’s comment, “I just think it’d be nice if you had someone,” Hermione punched Ron in the arm, “I have this...” she rolled her eyes as she noticed a small drop of sauce sitting on Ron’s chin, “untidy specimen,” she muttered not unkindly, Ron just smirked and rubbed the sauce off of his chin with the napkin in front of him, which was progress; normally he’d just use the back of his hand.

 

“I think I’m good in the whole love department, thanks Hermione,” Harry said, putting down his fork and sitting back in his chair.

 

“Wait...” Hermione’s eyes widened, “does that mean you’ve already met someone!?” she exclaimed, sounding excited, “who is he? What’s his name?! What does he do?!”

 

Harry crossed his arms and gave her a look that made her face fall.

 

“Oh,” she sat back down in her chair, “you were just saying.”

 

Harry nodded.

 

Ever since he had come out as gay to his friends, they had been trying to hook him up with whatever male came by that just happened to be gay or bisexual, even Ron, who had asked a few men if they’d be interested. Though, one time he had phrased the question wrong, and had almost ended up on a date with a promiscuous book store worker in Diagon Alley. It had been a right laugh; Hermione had even started egging him on, begging him to go for the date; for laughs. But Ron had set things straight; literally. Though, somehow Ron and Peter had remained good friends, which ended up with Hermione getting books for free from Flourish and Blotts.

 

When asked if he wanted to see Harry, Peter had stated he was only into red heads. Which Harry was relieved about; Harry didn’t have a type, but all he knew was that it wasn’t Peter.

 

“I don’t need a relationship right now,” Harry said, “at the moment; I’m busy trying to focus on becoming an Auror.”

 

Hermione frowned, “I still don’t think you should do it.”

 

Ron looked scandalised, “why not!?” he asked, “He’d be the best Auror there is!”

 

Hermione sighed; they’d had this argument with Harry a lot of times. Ron had never been there, or had never really been listening. Though, most of the time it was a whispered conversation, because she knew Ron would either get offended, or act as if Hermione were sacrificing kittens to Satan.

 

“Harry and I have been talking about this for a long time,” Hermione said slowly, “and I personally don’t think it’s a good idea.”

 

Harry sighed, but didn’t say a word.

 

“They could use him for his fame,” Hermione said, “hell; they could use _you_ for _your_ fame Ron.”

 

“I’m not famous,” Ron said with a shrug.

 

“You just got asked for an autograph last week from a little girl who said ‘thank you for helping Harry Potter save the world’!” Hermione said, sounding exasperated.

 

“And you actually gave her your autograph,” Harry said with a small laugh. Ron’s face turned beat red.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Draco was nervous. He had been called to his bosses’ office, which was never a good thing. He’d either written a bad story, or someone had said something particularly nasty about him. Admittedly, he had called Gina Wilson a fat whale the other day; but he had been stressed. If that was the reason why he was being called in, he hoped he’d just get a slap on the wrist, like a child, and told to apologise.

 

 _Maybe give her a couple of galleons for a gym membership,_ Draco thought, chuckling to himself.

 

He stood outside the door, it was mostly horrible painted white wood, with a glass panel going from the top right down the middle of the door. It was clear and it had the name of the newspapers editor on it; Barnabas Cuffe. He could see the man inside, pouring over bits of parchment that Draco assumed were numerous articles written by his colleagues.

 

He knocked lightly on the door, watching as Barnabas looked up and signalled him to come inside.

 

Draco walked in and closed the door slowly behind him, trying hard not to slam it and annoy his boss even more. He turned around and stood in front of the man’s desk, his hands behind his back, trying to look casual, but polite and patient.

 

He finally looked up from what he was reading and politely smiled up at Draco, he motioned towards the two chairs sitting in front of his desk, “please, feel free to sit,” he said. Draco nodded and did as he was told, sitting down. The chairs were uncomfortable. You’d think a man so rich would purchase more comfortable chairs for the guests in his office, but no.

 

“Draco, you know that I find you a promising worker,” Barnabas said, lacing his fingers together and leaning his chin on his hands, peering at him, like he was his favourite employee. Though; Draco was sure he did that with all of his employees.

 

“Of course,” Draco said, “you have complimented my journalism skills many times, sir.”

 

Barnabas continued to smile warmly at him, the smile never wavering, “and you realise why I hired you, don’t you?”

 

Draco nodded, “because you believe in giving everyone second chances.”

 

Barnabas looked at him like you would a student who just got the correct answer, but Draco was getting more and more nervous. If this had been about him insulting Gina while he had been under-pressure, Gina would be here and they’d have the situation half resolved by now. But at this point, Draco didn’t even know what the situation was.

 

“You’ve been asked,” he said, “to work for another elite newspaper.”

 

Draco’s eyes widened.

 

“And I am willing to put you through to them, tell them about your talents,” he said, “but there is a catch.”

 

Draco waited.

 

“You’ll have to stop publishing under a fake name,” he said, “and you’d have to move to another country.”

 

He froze, “uh...” Draco’s mouth was agape and the only intelligent sound he could make was the sound of a zombie, which wasn’t all that intelligent after all.

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Barnabas said, “that’s a big change, especially seeing as you’ll be moving to Australia.”

 

Draco frowned, “Australia?!” he exclaimed, he stood up, aggravated, “what bloody magazine is there in _fucking_ Australia that is more elite than the one here?!” he asked, “is saying _g’day mate, lemme put a shrimp on da barbie´_ suddenly counted as classy and elite language?!”

 

Barnabas shook his head, like he was talking to a child that he couldn’t reason with.

 

“You have to understand Draco, that they are not requesting it. They are _forcing_ you,” he said, sounding frustrated, “and also at my demand! I am doing you a favour!”

 

Draco sat and waited, making a motion with his hand, asking Barnabas to go on.

 

“The Ministry of Magic is trying to clear the UK of former Death Eaters.”

 

Draco groaned aloud, “I was hardly a Death Eater!” he exclaimed, “yes; I had the mark and attended a minimal amount of meetings and had, and not to mention _failed_ a mission,” he said, sounding irritated, “I have done nothing wrong, other than follow in my idiotic father’s footsteps, out of _fear_!”

 

“Draco-.”

 

“Is there anything I can do to stay here?” Draco asked, trying to sound calm and reasonable.

 

“Well...they’re holding back on those Death Eaters that prove their allegiance to the good side,” he said slowly, “and those with families.”

 

“What qualifies as a family?” Draco asked, gritting his teeth. The only family he really had was his mother and father, but he never talked to them. Plus, they were former Death Eaters themselves, and much more active in the cause; the Ministry shipping off a _family_ of Death Eaters? They’d love it.

 

“Not Death Eater parents,” Barnabas muttered under his breath, causing Draco to roll his eyes.

 

“Continue Cuffe,” Draco said, trying to sound as venomous as possible. Barnabas recoiled, causing Draco to mentally smirk; he still had what it took to make people fear him.

 

“Wives, husbands, children,” Barnabas stated as if it were obvious, “adopted children included,” he added, eyeing Draco weirdly, “do you have any of those things at all Draco?”

 

Draco gave him what he hoped was a small sincere smile, “indeed I do,” he said, “well...a fiancé.”

 

Barnabas raised an untidy, bushy eyebrow, “oh? You never mentioned it.”

 

Draco scowled, “didn’t think it was anyone’s business but my fiancés and my own. When was it stated in the terms of working at this newspaper that I had to mention-.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Barnabas raised his hands in surrender, “I get it,” Barnabas’s expression turned into a smirk, making Draco freeze in place and swallow harshly. This couldn’t be good.

 

“Surely, you and fiancé wouldn’t be opposed to joined me and my wife for dinner sometime,” Barnabas said, “we’d love to have some company sometime and if all goes well, I’ll put in a good word at the Ministry, mention that you’re engaged to be married-.”

 

“Of course,” Draco said nervously, “only if you’re uh...” he began tapping his foot on the ground nervously, cursing his habit of doing so, “only if you’re not homophobic, of course.”

 

Barnabas didn’t even bat an eyelid, “of course I’m not!” he said.

 

Draco rolled his eyes, he’d been betting on the fact that Barnabas was homophobic, most old people were.

 

“Then...ahh...I’ll contact you,” Draco said, “if I have no plans.”

 

Barnabas nodded pleasantly, “I’m glad we had this talk Draco,” he said with an easy smile. He stood up and held out his hand to Draco, who was still slightly frozen in his spot.

 

Draco stepped forward slowly, hoping that Barnabas didn’t notice that he was practically shaking like a leaf; he smiled a nervous smile and shook the man’s hand, “always a pleasure Barnabas,” he lied. He turned around towards the door and began walking towards it. His hand was on the handle, ready to turn it when Barnabas said his name again.

 

“Yes sir?” Draco asked, trying to sound polite despite the fact that he just wanted to leave the man’s office sooner, rather than later.

 

“I was just wondering,” he said, “what’s your fiancés name?”

 

Draco stammered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before choking out the first name that came to mind, “uh, Harry.”

 

Barnabas’s eyes widened, “not _Harry Potter_ , surely!”

 

Draco’s laughed nervously and shook his head, “of course not!” he exclaimed, “We were enemies in school. Besides; I’m pretty sure he’s married to a woman.”

 

“Bloody hope not,” Barnabas scoffed, “we just did an article piece with Witch Weekly, about him coming out of the closet a little less than five months ago!”

 

Draco’s eyes widened, Potter? Gay; surely not; he never would have picked it to be honest.

 

 _Didn’t he have the hots for the Weaslette_?

 

He shook his head, “no, not Harry Potter, a different Harry,” he said, “Harry...Watson.”

 

Barnabas nodded, “alright,” he sounded a little less excited now, “well, I best be getting back to these articles,” he said, motioning a hand towards the massive cluster of parchment on his desk, with various amounts of cursive and chicken scratch handwriting, “have a good day Draco,” he said, “feel free to take the rest of the day off,” he muttered, not looking at Draco, “tell your fiancé about the dinner you’ve been invited to.”

 

Draco nodded, “I shall,” he watched as Barnabas sat down, back in his office chair, and then awkwardly stepped out of the room, closing the door a little louder than he normally would. He was unnerved, and now he’d gotten himself into a big load of _shit_.


	2. Chapter 2

Benefits

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

 

Draco slammed the door to his apartment behind him harshly. He felt like ripping out his hair at the moment. How could he have been so stupid?! Why would he take risks like that?!

 

He couldn’t believe what he had done; he had been so stupid. There was no way out of this one; it was either go all the way with what he had said, or he was a liar getting shipped off to Australia on a permanent not so fantastic holiday. He couldn’t help the audible groan that escaped his pale lips.

 

“Now I’ve got to come up with a billion excuses as to why I’m busy!” Draco exclaimed to himself. His voice echoed slightly in the apartment. He walked over to his room and threw himself on the bed and made a mental note to save the dead Grandmother excuse for sometime in the future.

 

He heard the flutter of wings and looked towards the opposite side of the room. There was an owl, sitting on his window sill, ruffling his feathers to get Draco’s attention. The poor owl had probably been sitting there for the last five minutes. Draco got up and walked towards the owl hurriedly. The owl made a little sound that made it sound like a mother scorning his child for being late home, after dark.

 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, petting the owl on the back, happy that it didn’t make an attempt to attack him, just to scowl a little more at him.

 

He untied the letter from the bird’s leg and it instantly flew back off, hooting behind him at Draco. Draco would hate to know what the owl was saying right now. He looked down the envelope and sighed happily; it was Blaise. He’d been worried it was Barnabas, annoying him from his office after his not so convincing performance earlier.

 

He ripped open the envelope with the letter opener he kept stashed in the top drawer of his bedside table. He shook the slip of parchment out, and opened it hurriedly.

 

_Remove wards at 3:30PM,_

_Coming over,_

_Blaise_

Draco rolled his eyes and looked at the time; it was currently 3:25. He sighed; he hadn’t really gotten that much of the day off after all.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

By the time it was three thirty; Draco had brewed two cups of tea and was waiting patiently for the time to arrive. He looked at his watch and concentrated on closing down the wards to let Blaise past.

 

There was a pop and Blaise appeared in the middle of his lounge room. He was still wearing his work clothes. Blaise had gotten a job at the Daily Prophet with Draco when they had first left Hogwarts, only because Barnabas was keen on second chances, so the Daily Prophet was the only place that would take them. Blaise wrote a lot about sporting events happening, mainly, of course, Quidditch.

 

Blaise peered at the mugs of tea on the bench, “thanks,” Blaise said, taking his and holding it in his hands, but not taking a sip.

 

“So what did Barnabas want?” he asked, “it looked like a pretty serious discussion.”

 

“You were watching?”

 

Blaise smirked, “Disillusionment charm,” he said, “but Barnabas obviously put a silencing spell on the room; I couldn’t hear a thing you were shouting about.”

 

Draco sighed, “They’re sending me off to Australia,” he paused, looking at Blaise; his reaction was one of shock so he continued on, “if I don’t prove that I have a fiancé.”

 

Blaise look confused, “you don’t have a fiancé though.”

 

“I know,” Draco said, “that’s the goddamn issue!”

 

Blaise sat down on his spot on Draco’s couch, “you’ll think of something,” he said, finally take a small sip from his tea, “you always do.”

 

Draco shook his head, “but everyone hates me,” he murmured, “Everyone associates me with Death Eaters. No one is going to want to pretend to be the fiancé of a largely known former Death Eater, despite the fact that he barely did anything.”

 

Blaise sighed, “Well, who’s this imaginary fiancé? What’s their gender?” he asked.

 

“Male,” Draco said, pacing in the kitchen now, his hands behind his back like they had been earlier, looking a cross between nervous, and concentrating on something difficult.

 

“Alright,” Blaise said nodding slowly, “what did you say his name was?”

 

Draco paused, turning to look at Blaise. He could feel his face slowly going red with slightly mortification.

 

“Draco...?” Blaise said slowly, “what did you say his name was...?”

 

Draco bit his lip. _Should he-...?_

Draco lifted his arms exasperatedly and sighed, “Look...I panicked!” he exclaimed.

 

“Panicked-,” Blaise groaned, “Oh Merlin, you didn’t-.”

 

“I did,” Draco said, looking more and more embarrassed by the minute. Blaise looked like he was tempted to roll his eyes, but was only just holding it together.

 

“Harry?” he asked.

 

Draco nodded, his face was hot and flustered; he hated how well Blaise knew him some days.

 

Blaise rolled his eyes, “if you used the last name Watson again-.”

 

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, smacking his forehead. He felt stupid enough as it was, but Blaise wasn’t helping. Friends were supposed to help you feel less stupid, not even more so.

 

“Ugh,” he groaned, smacking his own forehead this time, “your stupidity and unoriginality astounds me Draco- and worries me; how did you even get into Slytherin?”

 

Draco threw a towel at him.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione later on that evening, deciding that he would walk home rather than apparate. He didn’t live all that far from them, it was what; a twenty minute walk at most if you knew where you were going; if not, forty.

 

All he knew was that he needed a bit of fresh air. Hermione asking him constant questions about his life and then trying to make him have a love life was more suffocating than actually having someone’s hands wrapped around your throat; which he’d dealt with plenty of times. He shuddered and continued walking.

 

The wind was blowing softly, just the right amount of wind to calm someone down; but to not make it too cold. However; Harry wrapped his coat around him tighter and walked faster. He didn’t like the feeling of his hair standing on the back of his neck that he was getting right now.

 

“Harry!”

 

Harry cursed aloud under his breath, as he slowly turned around to look at the dark haired man who had run up behind him while he’d been walking.

 

“Harry,” he said, panting slightly, the man was thin but he had never been fit. His lips were a dark red and his cheeks light pink, which made Harry glower. He turned to look behind the man and noticed that he’d walked past a bar, which is probably how Lucas had spotted him.  He saw a woman with shiny blonde hair and big breasts wearing a pink tank top and tight jeans; she waved at him like they were old friends.

 

“Lucas,” Harry murmured, looking at his feet. He’d never liked looking at Lucas for too long, even when they had been dating. It felt wrong; especially after everything...Harry shook his head and ignored the hateful feeling that swept over him like a wave; a wave of self-disgust.

 

“How have you been?” he asked, as if he hadn’t just been making out with a girl that could easily be a supermodel. Harry shrugged, hoping that Lucas would get the hint that Harry didn’t want to talk, especially not to him, of all the people in the world. He would prefer Voldemort come back to life and talked to him face to face about how much he wanted to kill Harry- which really said a lot about how much he despised Lucas.

 

Harry refused to look up as he muttered a tiny little, “fine,” and waited for Lucas to make the next move. Either another attempt at conversation, or he would just walk off.

 

“Alright,” Lucas said, sounding awkward. He hoped that was a sign that Lucas had finally gotten the hint, “well...I’ll see you around,” he said. He had taken the point and he walked off. Harry whispered a tiny, “I hope not,” though he knew Lucas wouldn’t hear it. He hoped Lucas wouldn’t hear it.

 

He didn’t need to start a scene in the middle of a street full of alcoholics and fake people who thought they were supermodels.

 

Harry started walking again, the feeling of his hair standing up on the back of his neck slowly going down, like nothing had ever happened, but seeing Lucas, in such ordinary scenery had frightened him. He hadn’t needed that type of scare tonight; it just stacked on top of everything else bothering him in his life. Hermione badgering him to date and move on with his life, without her actually knowing the full story. He didn’t have a job- while yes, he did have enough money to live without a job for the rest of his life and he didn’t particularly feel like being completely useless. And now; Lucas was turning up whenever the hell he pleased.

 

Harry sighed, he was being stupid. He was walking on a street, it was a public place, Lucas or anyone he disliked immensely could have turned up there, unknowingly. He was being overdramatic. If Lucas had turned up at his new apartment however; now that would have been scary, especially seeing as Lucas didn’t know the address; which was the reason why Harry had moved.

 

By the time he had finally finished thinking about it all, a little too deeply for his liking, he had walked up the stairs and he was outside the door of his apartment. He walked in and admired the comfy looking scenery. He had admittedly, gone extravagant when he had gotten his apartment, which wasn’t usually his style but that made it all the more convincing that it wasn’t him hiding here. Lucas knew him too well, and he knew that extravagance made Harry uncomfortable. He liked simple, stylish, but simple; an apartment or house with furniture that he wasn’t afraid to break; though admittedly he could just fix it with a flick of his wand.

 

Harry knew he was being silly about it, but it made him feel safe.

 

Except for the fact that he lived alone.

 

He knew he could fight; he knew that much for sure. But there was still a certain feeling he got when he thought about protecting himself against Lucas; could he do it? He felt like he wouldn’t be able to. Many times, he’d contemplating putting an ad in the paper, asking for a roommate; but he felt that would be too odd; who knew who you would get from those ads?

 

Harry sighed and sat down on the couch, he’d left a stack of books in front of him and some old newspapers. All filled with stories about Auror cases, being solved or not. It was an attempt to either help him definitely decide on becoming an Auror or not becoming an Auror. He was leaning towards not becoming one; but he wasn’t going to tell Hermione that, it would give her too much satisfaction.


	3. Chapter 3

Benefits

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

 

 

 

Draco didn’t sleep well that night and was up at around five in the morning, cursing his stupid boss and the stupid ministry and stupid Voldemort and his stupid parents- and basically anything else he considered stupid in his life.

 

Blaise was currently sleeping on the couch. Draco had told the other man to go home, but Draco thought that Blaise thought that he needed a friend at the moment; and although hadn’t really leaned on his friends during their school years, he definitely needed them now.

 

Blaise had written a letter to Pansy, his wife, explaining the situation and why he wouldn’t be home for the night. Pansy had been understanding and wished Draco luck, and a good nights’ sleep; which he hadn’t. Not even close.

 

He walked out into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and hoping to make himself a cup of coffee without waking up Blaise. But Blaise was already awake, re-reading one of the numerous newspapers around Draco’s apartment.

 

“Do you keep every newspaper that you have a prominent article in?” Blaise asked, sounding genuinely curious instead of mocking.

 

“Yes,” Draco said, “re-reading them helps me improve on future articles.”

 

Blaise nodded, seeming to think Draco’s explanation made sense.

 

“So what are you doing today?” Blaise asked.

 

Draco shrugged, “maybe claim that my imaginary fiancé and I got massively drunk last night so I have a massive hangover and can’t come into work.”

 

Blaise rolled his eyes, “already abusing your non-existent fiancé; nice,” Blaise sat up, “maybe you should get drunk tonight, you honestly look like you need a drink.”

 

Draco shrugged, “maybe...where would we go though?”

 

Blaise smirked, “how about a gay bar? Find this imaginary fiancé of yours and give him a face and a body.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes, “I would say that’s a brilliant idea if everyone didn’t hate me.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

There was a heavy, rapid knocking on Harry’s front door. He rolled his eyes and went to open the door, knowing it would either be Hermione or Ron.

 

He was right. When he opened the door, Hermione was standing there, wearing a small black dress. She had heels higher than he’d ever seen her wear and red lipstick that showed just how pale her skin was.

 

“Hermione, what are you-.”

 

“We’re going out,” Hermione said, effectively cutting him off, “you need to get out of your house, in other ways than just meeting Ron and I up for lunch, and I have an idea.”

 

Harry groaned.

 

Hermione pushed forward into the foyer and grabbed Harry’s shirt from collar and began dragging Harry to his room. When they got there, despite Harry’s many complaints, Hermione grabbed at his shirt and pulled it off. Harry’s instant reaction was to cross his arms over his chest defensively.

 

“What the hell are you doing?!” he exclaimed, his voice going up an octave or two.

 

“Helping you get dressed,” Hermione said, pulling a green button down off of the pole at the bottom rail of Harry’s wardrobe, when Hermione turned around, ready to practically tackle Harry in an attempt to get the button down on, she rolled her eyes, “yes Harry, cover your chest up,” she said, “I might see your boobs.”

 

Harry muttered, “Well; technically-.”

 

“Don’t sass me Potter,” Hermione said, holding the button up, open in front of him, “I’m a woman on a mission!”

 

“You sound so cliché,” Harry said. He flinched when Hermione sent him a rather frosty looking glare, “alright, alright,” he muttered, “no sass.”

 

Hermione grinned triumphantly as Harry extended his arms, giving Hermione an easier time putting the button on, on him.

 

“I can button it!” he said as Hermione buttoned up the shirt for him.

 

Hermione shook her head.

 

“Hell no,” she said, “the last time you wore a button up, the last two buttons were done wrong and it took me pointing it out for you to realise it.”

 

Harry sighed.

 

“At least I can give you credit for one thing,” Hermione said, turning back around and going through Harry’s drawers, looking for a nice pair of trousers.

 

“What’s that?” Harry asked, sounding bored.

 

“You’re not a _stereotypical_ gay guy,” she said, looking back at him with a wicked smile.

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “just chuck me a pair of trousers, I can get those on without fucking it up.”

 

“Not too badly anyway,” she said cheekily, “I’ll wait outside,” she said, handing him a pair of black trousers and leaving the room, closing the door softly behind her. Harry rolled his eyes and pulled off his jeans, before looking at the trousers and sighing. He’d forgotten he’d had these. He put them on anyway and looked at himself in the mirror. For someone who looked like he hated life, in every sense of the word; he looked alright.

 

“You can come back in,” Harry called out. Hermione walked in immediately and looked Harry up and down.

 

“You look alive now,” she said, not even sounding slightly sarcastic.

 

“Thanks,” he muttered darkly.

 

“Now,” she said, sounding a little bit more enthusiastic, “let’s go!”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Draco sighed, sitting at the bar with Blaise. He had never been fond of pubs, or bars. Not even gay bars. The loud music made him hate life and the drunken people hanging off him made him want to kill someone. He never really got outrageously drunk in public- not even a little tipsy. He always got drunk, at home. With people he trusted, like Pansy and Blaise.

 

Blaise was sitting next to him, looking at everyone dancing and smiling at some guy who was weirdly dancing, making some obscene dance moves, “at least he’s having fun!” he shouted over the loud music, even so; Draco could only just make out what he was saying, “unlike someone else I know!” Blaise said, pointedly looking at Draco’s moody face as he stirred the straw in his drink around like a spoon.

 

“Come on Draco!” Blaise said, slapping Draco’s hand away from the drink. The blonde sent him a nasty glare, but Blaise didn’t even flinch. He knew Draco’s glares meant nothing, “You need to have some fun. You don’t get to live forever! Besides, none of these guys are going to fake being your fiancé if they realise how fucking grumpy you are.”

 

“I’m paying them,” Draco said, “They’ll do it for the money.”

 

“They’re not fiancé whores,” Blaise said, snickering slightly.

 

“Well, they will be.”

 

Draco looked towards the dancing crowd, still with a relatively moody expression on his face. But he toned it down a little, if not to look a little more approachable than to relieve some of his face muscles which ached slightly when they were relieved from their duty of making Draco looking like an angry shit.

 

His gaze stopped upon a girl with sleek brown hair attempting to get her dark haired friend to dance with her, but he was trying to politely refuse her, shaking his head. The man looked back towards his place at the bar, and Draco froze.

 

“Blaise,” Draco said, slapping Blaise’s arm rapidly, “look over there!” he said, pointing in the direction of the brunette and her dark haired friend with his other hand.

 

Blaise looked in the direction Draco was pointing, and groaned, “That’s a little too convenient.”

 

“Shut up!” Draco snapped, still trying to make him heard over the music, “I wonder where the Weasel is?”

 

“Why’s that?!” Blaise asked, watching as the dorky dancer from before got shoved onto the ground. The guy didn’t respond; he just started doing to worm amongst people, almost getting trod on in the process. Blaise wondered what drugs this guy was on.

 

“He was always the difficult one!” Draco answered, “I don’t want him to get in my way!”

 

Blaise made a sound between an exasperated sigh and a heavy groan of disappointment, “you’re not!”

 

Draco smirked.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Draco began walking through the crowd, his drink was with Blaise, who he just knew was rolling his eyes behind his back and suffering from some form of ‘second hand embarrassment,’ which was slightly insulting to Draco, but he ignored it.

 

He walked past a guy who was wearing a pair of glasses with eyes hanging off of the rims; Draco was tempted to rip them off, generally out of the fact that they looked stupid; but he was too focused on Potter, who was awkwardly standing there while Granger was attempting to get him to dance. He could just hear Granger complaining about Potter’s general disinterest and for being a killjoy.  


Draco would have laughed, or he probably did; the music was too loud to hear even your own laughter. You could barely even hear yourself think.

 

It took him a while to reach Hermione and Harry, but when he did Hermione had already left; even better.

 

Harry turned around and he could see the man’s eyes go wide. Draco tried not to smirk, but it was difficult, so he gave him a bashful smile while some bleach blonde girl with a big bust tried to grind against him. He stepped to the side, slightly disgusted, but he didn’t let it show.

 

“Whoa; M-Malfoy,” Harry sounded astonished and looked confused, but not angry, that was the main thing. Draco could tell that Harry was already a little intoxicated; but it looked like getting Harry drunk wasn’t how you got the man to dance, Draco snickered.

 

“Potter,” Draco shouted over the music, trying to sound casual about the situation, “or should I say Harry; aren’t we a little over our petty school feud?!”

 

Harry simply nodded and gave him a small smile; he was definitely intoxicated.

 

 

“Alright _Draco!”_ he shouted back; he had a drink in his hand, he couldn’t make out the colour but it looked red and bubble. Probably a vodka drink.

 

“So,” he looked around a motioned around the room, “the famous Harry Potter at a gay club?!”

 

Harry held a finger to his lips; Draco noticed he was swaying to the music slightly, like he was attempting to get some sort of dance movement going on, but he was still too awkward about the whole situation; despite how much liquor he had consumed.

 

“I don’t want to be the famous Harry Potter here,” he said lightly; Draco could barely hear him over the loud beat of a more upbeat song. It seemed as the songs changed, they got more and more upbeat, hips began grinding on hips and people began fondling each other on the dance floor. The bleach blonde with the large breasts was back over with her obviously gay friend, seeming to thrust into the side of his hip while a friend of theirs took a photo of it. Draco tried not to hurl.

 

“So what do you want to be?!” Draco asked.

 

Harry shrugged, “nothing!”

 

Hermione came back at that moment, holding a drink similar to Harry’s, except clear, “hey Harry who’s-,” Hermione paused, looking at Draco with wide eyes, “Malfoy?!”

 

Draco nodded, trying to give her a small smile, but finding it difficult; Ron would have given him the most amount of trouble, the bloody red head didn’t know how to shut his mouth. But Hermione might give him a worse time; she had had the biggest balls out of the trio; loathe as he was to admit it.

 

“So...what are you doing here?!” Hermione asked, doing her own little awkward sway next to Harry who was now looking embarrassedly at his feet.

 

“What does it look like?!” Draco asked, “I’m either here to dance, to have a drink, or to hook up!” he smirked, “leave it up to your imagination Granger.”

 

Hermione’s face flushed his red and he was almost tempted to make a cutting remark about how Harry was probably here for the same thing. But he decided to leave it; he didn’t really want to cause any trouble, it would just make what he wanted to do all the much harder.

 

 

(***)

 

 

Draco had retreated to the bar and was watching as Harry became slowly more comfortable in his surroundings; to the point where he was dancing with a giggling Hermione. She was shouting something at him and Harry was shaking his head, Draco couldn’t hear a thing either of them was saying.

 

Hermione disappeared again shortly after and Harry walked over towards the far wall, staying well out of everyone’s way; like he couldn’t have fun if he didn’t have a friend with him at all times. Hermione was at the bar, chatting with the only straight guy in the whole place; the barman. Why he was working at a gay club, Draco had no idea. Draco could see the bartender look Hermione up and down, but she didn’t seem to notice; despite the fact that he was now giving her free drinks. All a part of her alcoholic charm, Draco assumed.

 

He made his way over to Harry.

 

Harry almost looked relived when he finally noticed Draco making a beeline towards him through the crowd; like he’d been saved. Draco just smirked and continued walking towards him, this time his drink was with him.

 

“Why aren’t you dancing Harry?” he asked, trying to sound kind, “it’s a good song...if you’re into this sort of thing,” which Draco wasn’t.

 

Harry gave him a coy look, “wanna dance then?”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Blaise had been sitting at the bar, chatting with the bartender every so often when he wasn’t serving someone at the bar. Other than that, he just watched everyone else. He had never been into the whole club scene; he honestly felt as if the whole act of dancing in a place with loud obscene music with flashing lights was beneath him. But it got Draco out of his apartment, and made him stop worrying for a few moments, which was enough of an excuse for Blaise to go out to a place like this.

 

When he turned back to look through the crowd, he could see neither Draco nor Harry until he reached towards the back of the room towards the far wall. He rolled his eyes at what he saw. Grinding; hips thrusting into each other, he turned back towards the bartender and asked for another drink.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

His lips were on Harry’s skin, kissing the place between the beginning of his neck and his shoulder softly as his hips thrust into Harry’s; to other’s it would like they were dancing closely. But to Draco, this was so much more; the possibility of taking this so much further was becoming more and more prominent. In fact, he could _feel_ the possibility against his erection.

 

“I think we should take this somewhere else,” he spoke into Harry’s ear. He looked back and drank in the look of Harry’s flushed cheeks, his lust filled eyes which were almost completely black. Harry nodded grabbed Draco’s hand.

 

Draco led the way outside of the club and said to Blaise, “If Granger starts looking panicked tell her Harry went off with me.”

 

Blaise looked at Draco bemused, “I think that’ll worry her more,” he said.

 

“That’s her problem.”

 

With that Draco walked out of the door and into the night. He could hear the heavy bass of the music going through the speakers still and into the night every time the door opened. His ears were ringing after spending so long in a loud place, and he was sure he could still see some of the colours of the lights flashing behind his eyelids.

 

“Yours or-?” Harry asked, panting slightly.

 

“Mine,” Draco said with smirk.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

As soon as they were at Draco’s apartment, Draco took off Harry’s shirt and threw it onto the floor, capturing the dark haired man’s lips with his own; his fingers lightly grabbing a hold of his naked hips. The skin was soft; almost silk like.

 

“Bed,” Harry panted out wantonly, “now.”

 

That was all the convincing Draco needed. He began pushing Harry backwards, towards the closed door of his bedroom. He didn’t want to stop kissing and touching Harry’s naked chest lightly; almost caressing it; in case the man decided to change his mind, but Harry seemed too far gone. He was enjoying this way too much to turn his back on it.

 

He opened the door and pushed Harry into the room, hastily unbuttoning the man’s trousers, almost with care. He pushed Harry down onto the bed, admiring the dramatic colour differences between his pale white sheets and Harry’s tan, almost naked body. He pulled off the man’s trousers and his briefs, admiring Harry’s fully erect cock as Harry kicked off his shoes.

 

Draco took his shirt off, and lowered his body on top of Harry’s none too gracefully, Harry laughed aloud until Draco kissed him, biting and pulling softly at his bottom lip and rubbing a nipple between a thumb and a finger; he let out a deep moan as he felt Draco’s pants disappear and Draco’s cock rest heavily against his.

 

Draco reached for the lube in his bedside table drawer and put some of the slippery solution onto his fingers, before circling his finger around Harry’s hole; he pushed through the ring of muscle smoothly, watching as Harry arched his back off of the bed in pleasure. It was an erotic sight, as he continued to finger the green eyed boy, adding another finger in every so often.

 

Eventually, Draco grabbed the lube again and rubbed the solution on his cock before lining it up with Harry’s entrance and pushing in. Harry was in pure bliss, ecstasy shown everywhere on his features as he fisted his hands in the sheets and his back arched up again. Draco pulled out slowly and just as slowly pushed back in, Harry showing no indication of wanting to stop.

 

Draco began building up a steady pace, Harry was moaning beneath him and asking for him to go harder and faster, to which Draco complied easily. They were both panting heavily; Draco could feel a bead of sweat slowly running down the bridge of his nose.

 

Harry grabbed roughly at his back, nails digging in and causing Draco to moan and thrust harder into the shorter man; he could feel his balls tightening as his orgasm came closer and closer. He grabbed at Harry’s cock and began pumping it. Harry let out a low moan and came all over Draco’s hand and his stomach; Draco marvelled and the beautiful sight below him and came inside of Harry, riding out his orgasm before almost collapsing on top of Harry in exhaustion.

 

“Fucking hell,” he heard Harry whisper, trying to catch his breath, “that was...that was...”

 

Draco shushed him and kissed him softly on the lips before attempting a half assed cleaning spell. It did the trick; but Draco and Harry were still coating in a thin film of sweat. Draco slapped Harry’s thigh and told him to get into bed. Harry nodded and crawled into one side of the bed and Draco the other.

 

Draco gave no thought to what the night would possibly bring as he turned off the light he had purposely left on before going out; in case he had met someone and it had led to this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my name is Teagan/Isaac and I'm a really bad fucking author. I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a while! I recently got a new kitten, her name is Chelsea and she's...less than three months old? And I'm getting a new kitten next week as well, and it'll be even younger, but hopefully I'll be able to multi-task better. 
> 
> Anyway, before I'm a bad person and have kept you waiting for a long time, here is chapter four. Please review it after. Reviews keep me motivated and make my day to be honest :) 
> 
> (www.facebook.com/HarryFreakingSnape - a way you can message me)

Benefits

 

 

Chapter Four

 

 

Draco woke up with an erection and the first thing he felt, besides his erection, was the obvious warmth of someone else in his bed; it was obvious because it really didn’t happen often. The last time someone had slept with him, and he meant actually slept with him, it had been when he had dated- no. He didn’t dare think of that cheating bastard’s name.

 

The next thing he felt was the light hasty rustling of sheets, in a hurried attempt to leave the bed. Draco rolled his eyes and closed them, pretending that he was asleep as Harry picked up his clothes from the ground and started putting them on; though Draco couldn’t help but peek; he looked at Harry’s naked body with approval, he’d done well last night.

 

Then he realised that this would be the perfect opportunity to-.

 

“Potter,” Draco sat up hurriedly as Harry was putting on his trousers. He looked up, alarmed, his face going red.

 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Harry said awkwardly, clutching his shirt to his chest.

 

Draco smiled softly, though it was more a grim smile than an amused one, “it’s okay, you didn’t.”

 

Harry nodded, “look, Malfoy; I normally don’t do this sort of thing-.”

 

“I love how everyone always says that,” Draco scoffed, “just deal with it Potter; it happened.”

 

Harry nodded and put his shirt back on, “well,” he stood there awkwardly, “I guess I best be going-.”

 

“I wanted to ask you something,” Draco said, now sounding nervous, “and I would like to ask you it over a cup of tea or coffee or... _something_.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

And that was how they were now sitting at Draco’s dining room table, each with a hot cup of coffee in their hands; Harry shifting in his seat uncomfortably every so often. Draco smirked despite himself, partially remembering what had happened last night. Draco had gotten dressed after Harry had awkwardly left the room and had rushed out to make a cup of coffee for the both of them, half expecting Harry to be gone by the time he’d gone out into the kitchen, but he had been surprised, and relieved to find that Harry was sitting at the dining room table patiently; looking a little nervous.

 

“So,” Harry said, deciding that he was finally comfortable and that he actually had vocal chords.

 

“So,” Draco threw back at him, just to be a smart arse, which probably wasn’t the best way to go about getting what he was going to ask.

 

“What is it you wanted to speak to me about?” Harry asked, cocking up a brow and getting impatient.

 

Draco bit his lip, “look, Potter, don’t refuse until I’ve finished, alright?” Harry nodded, which gave Draco some surge of confidence to continue.

 

“So, I’ve been working at the Daily Prophet, for a very long time,” Draco said, “ever since we finished school in fact.”

 

“I was wondering what you did for a living,” Harry said casually before taking a sip of coffee.

 

Draco shrugged, “well, not many places would take me, but Barnabas is big on giving people second chances-,” he looked on Harry’s face which basically told him to hurry up and get on with it, “right...” Draco muttered, “not important,” he moved his finger around the rim of the cup nervously, not looking up at Harry, “so I’ve been working at the Daily Prophet and recently the Ministry as to decided to deport all past Death Eaters- take them out of the UK and spread them out, and if they’re found outside of their respected countries they’ve been deported to, they’re to get arrested. The only way out of this arrangement, is if you’re married or have a family,” he looked up for a moment, “and obviously my parents don’t count because they’re past Death Eaters themselves.”

 

“Where is this going Malfoy?” Harry asked suspiciously.

 

“I’m getting there,” Draco snapped, Harry frowned which made Draco sigh, “sorry,” he muttered, “right...well...I lied to Barnabas and told him I was engaged to be married,” he said, “in a stupid attempt to stay in the country, but I really should have thought it out before saying anything; because now he wants me to prove it. He wants me to bring my ‘fiancé’ over to dinner at his house, and, ugh, well...” Draco shrugged, “I don’t have a bloody fiancé Potter.”

 

“...and where do _I_ come into this?”

 

Draco rolled his eyes, damn the man was daft, “I need a fiancé Potter,” he said slowly, “and...For fucks sake, it’s not that you’re not catching on you just want me to say it out loud.”

 

Harry smirked, “maybe.”

 

“You’re a prick.”

 

“That’s no way to treat someone who you’re about to ask to be your fiancé,” Harry said casually, “that’s how you get someone to refuse you offer.”

 

“Potter,” Draco practically growled, he tried to calm down, but Harry really didn’t seem to understand the seriousness of the situation, “Potter,” he said a lot calmer now, “can you please pretend to be my fiancé,” he said between gritted teeth, “at least for a few months.”

 

“What’s in it for me?” Harry asked, pushing his mug into the middle of the table. Draco was amazed to see that it was finished.

 

Draco paled, “I was kind of hoping your natural need to constantly be the hero being satisfied would be enough payment.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and went to stand up, but Draco grabbed his wrist with a panicked look on his face, “please Potter,” Draco said, “I’m desperate! Only a few months and hopefully the ministry will be off of my back!”

 

Harry gave him a look full of pity before sitting back down, “alright,” Harry said, “I have a few requests of my own.”

 

Draco nodded eagerly, “alright, whatever,” he said, “whatever you need, money-?”

 

Harry looked disgusted, “I don’t need your goddamn money Malfoy.”

 

“Alright,” Draco said, pushing his coffee away from him, as he had been talking it had gotten cold, “sorry, not money; but whatever else I don’t care.”

 

Harry smirked and put up one finger, “one; you have to be nice to me.”

 

Draco nodded.

 

“Two,” he lifted up another finger, “it has to be convincing,” Harry said, “I’d suggest you move in with me. I’ll buy the ring if I have to, I don’t really care,” he said, “but you have to put it on my finger _in front_ of my friends.”

 

Draco bit his lip, looking around his apartment. He didn’t really want to live in whatever kind of crap hole Harry called home; but it was only for a couple of months. He nodded.

 

“And last,” Harry lifted up a third finger and Draco noticed his face go a little red before saying, “admittedly...you’re good in bed.”

 

Draco smirked, “I’ve been told I’m amazing in bed.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “yes...well...”

 

Draco smirked, waiting patiently.

 

“You just want me to say it; don’t you?” Harry said, glaring at him.

 

“Whatever do you mean Potter?” Draco asked, feigning a look of innocence that wasn’t all to convincing.

 

“You want a fake fiancé,” Harry said, “and I want a fuck buddy. If you agree to what I want, then I’ll happily be your fake fiancé.”

 

Draco grinned, eyeing Harry up and down as if he _hadn’t_ seen the man naked before. Harry’s face went even redder with the embarrassment of being looked up and down, like a piece of meat, “Malfoy, don’t leave me hanging here.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes, “you’re no fun,” he said, “fine,” he got up and held out a hand. Harry smiled and shook it, “you bet your sexy arse I’ll agree to those conditions,” Draco said with a smirk. Harry’s smile dropped to one of slight irritation, “what?” Draco asked, “It’s common for people to compliment their fiancés like that,” he said. He started walking back towards his room.

 

“Where are you going?” Harry asked.

 

“I was wondering if my fiancé was up for a round two,” Draco asked, giving him a flirtatious look, “but- if you’re not up for it I guess I can-.”

 

Harry rushed down to where Draco was standing and practically pushed him into his room before slamming the bedroom door. The mugs sit in the middle of the dining room table, forgotten.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry lay panting in Draco’s bed, his eyes closed and a happy grin on his face, “fuck,” he groaned dragging out the word.

 

 

“Happy?” Draco asked, “Did I satisfy your need to be a whore?” he asked, jokingly.

 

Harry rolled his eyes and sat up. He cast a tempus spell with his wand that he had left on the bedside table and groaned, “I should probably get back home,” he said, “Hermione will be hysterical,” he dragged himself out of the bed, and cockily admitted to himself that his was much more expensive than Draco’s, and got his clothes back on for the second time that morning. Draco got out of the bed and grabbed his own clothing off of the floor for the second time that morning as well, “so, when do I move in?” he asked, putting on his shirt first. Harry turned around and looked straight down at Draco’s now, soft cock. Draco smirked as Harry’s eyes hurriedly looked back up at him with a colourful tinge to his pale cheeks.

 

“The sooner the better,” Harry said, “I thought I’d lie and say you’ve been living with me for several months now and so forth; Hermione and Ron are going to pissed enough as it is to find out I’m engaged.”

 

“How are you going to explain my surprise at finding you in a gay club last night?” Draco asked.

 

“Fuck,” Harry bit his lip, “Uhh...just a show to get Hermione warmed to the idea of us possibly getting together?”

 

“Damn Potter,” Draco said, sounding impressed, “an idea almost worthy of a Slytherin.”

 

Harry scrunched up his face, “shut up Malfoy.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Draco moved in that afternoon, with majority of his things shrunken down and stuffed into his pockets within shrunken down boxes. It weighed absolutely nothing, which made it even easier for him. The whole time while walking to Harry’s apartment block however, Draco kept complaining.

 

“I don’t really want to live in whatever hell hole you have, Potter,” Draco said, repeating a rendition of his earlier thoughts after Harry had suggested the idea that they move in together, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m all up for making this seem realistic- but as well as pretending to be engaged can’t we also pretend to be living together?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “my place isn’t that bad.”

 

Draco snorted, “Right, sure.”

 

Admittedly, when they rocked up outside of the apartment block, the outside of the building didn’t give away the gorgeous apartments that were featured inside. Neither did the entry way; but they were still updating the building from piece-of-shit-filled-with-drug-addicts flats to apartments worthy of the most uptight richest people in the world- aka Draco Malfoy.

 

They went up the stairs, Draco complaining about the fact that they weren’t going to use the elevator; Harry retaliated by saying that he could use it, he just wouldn’t get very far because so far the elevator only consisted of doors and a horrible death inducing drop down to the underground car park. He shut his mouth and stopped complaining about the amount of stairs he had to climb just to get to the third floor where Harry lived.

 

When they got there, Harry paused.

 

“One complaint, and the deal is off,” Harry said, “and I will kick your fucking arse as well.”

 

Draco sighed and nodded as Harry opened the door and walked inside, shortly followed in by Draco, who gasped and looked around the apartment in awe.

 

“Holy shit,” Draco basically whispered in shock, “Potter...what the fuck?”

 

“I said no complaints,” Harry said. The apartment was basically all white and black, which apparently were very sophisticated _shades_ that brought out everything in the room and brought it to its full potential. The lounge room had a large flat screen TV, which Harry basically never used and was a common object in the rest of the apartments as well, a large stereo sat near the wall, the floors shone and sparkled as well as the bench tops; the whole apartment was immaculate, with its thin floor the ceiling windows and chandelier like light covers.

 

“This is not really your taste,” Draco said, “as I’d imagine it being anyway.”

 

“It isn’t,” Harry said before he could stop himself.

 

“Then why get it?” Draco said, “I like the place, but why get an apartment that isn’t to your own personal tastes that you will love?”

 

Harry bit his lip and shook his head, “I lied,” he said, “I like it...I’ve always liked sophistication,” he sighed and pointing towards a room on the right, which from Draco’s perspective was his left, “bedroom is in there. Once again; please don’t make a big deal out of it.”

 

Draco nodded and walked into the room. The bed was made, majority of the bed was black with white sheets and white pillows, the bed may have originally been king sized, but Harry must have enlarged it a little with a spell. There was a walk in wardrobe to his right; he walked in a noticed that the many racks were practically bare. There was another wardrobe in the corner, which didn’t make much sense to Draco but he shrugged it off. There was an en suite just across from where the bed sat. He peeked in there as well. The bath was massive, more like a spa, and the shower was big enough to fit at least three people.

 

He walked back outside to find Harry with his head in his hands, but Draco didn’t really push to find out why, “Merlin’s beard, how much does this place cost a month?!” he asked, “It’s fucking amazing!”

 

Harry laughed, “I’m not renting it,” he said, “I bought it outright.”

 

Draco continued to look around, as if there may have been something he missed, but the only thing around the room was the photograph of his parents, dancing around near a fountain, Dumbledore’s army, and some of him and his friends from their school years. A few books from Hogwarts and otherwise sat on the shelves, and the one’s he had been studying from a few nights back sat there, looking dull and boring just like their context.

 

“What are you studying for?” Draco asked, eyeing the multiple books strewn across the coffee table, sitting open at certain pages.

 

Harry shrugged, “it’s a bunch of stuff I need to know to qualify for a position as a junior Auror,” he said, “or to at least qualify to go into the proper training. It’s nothing important really.”

 

“But being an Auror is huge,” Draco said, for once not sounding sarcastic.

 

Harry shrugged, “I really don’t care about it to be honest,” he said, “It’s just something to do, to avoid the loneliness in this place.”

 

Draco frowned, sitting down on one of the couches, “then...why get such a big place?” he asked, “Normally these apartments have about-.”

 

“Three bedrooms,” Harry said, “I know. One main, two other bedrooms, one study, three bathrooms, one living room, one dining room, one kitchen; I know what my apartment has Malfoy.”

 

“As I said,” Draco sounded a little peeved, “why such a big apartment for one person?” he paused, “were you with someone?”

 

Harry sighed, “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said, “honestly; I just want to go to bed.”

 

Draco nodded as Harry walked into his room and closed the door behind him. Draco looked around the room awkwardly, before his inner Slytherin got the best of him, or maybe it was just his inner Draco; he began to snoop through Harry’s things.


	5. Chapter 5

Benefits

 

Chapter Five

 

 

Harry lay down in his bed alone, but he didn’t feel alone. Having Draco here was a relief that he didn’t want to admit. But he felt so much safer; and for as long as the next few months, if Lucas found him and tried to hurt him, he’d have some form of back up.

 

Well, at least he hoped.

 

He tried to make himself comfortable, but he also noticed how weird it felt to have someone else in his apartment. None of his friends had stayed over at his new apartment; not even his old apartment, so to have someone in his place now was odd...

 

He couldn’t sleep. He sort of knew that he wasn’t going to be able to. He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling moodily.

 

He surprisingly didn’t jump when he felt someone lie down next to him.

 

“Are you alright Potter?” Draco asked, “You seemed a little...”

 

“Annoyed?”

 

“Distressed,” Draco said, looking at him.

 

Harry looked back and gave him a small smile, “I’m fine,” he muttered.

 

“That’s what they all say though,” he whispered. He leaned forward and kissed Harry softly, and was surprised that Harry didn’t push him away. He found himself pulled on top of Harry, nibbling at his bottom lip and seeking entrance. Harry obliged, opening his mouth. He felt Draco’s tongue inside his mouth and he sucked lightly on it. Draco groaned; he didn’t know there was some direct link between his tongue and his cock, but he thrust his hips into Harry’s anyway, enjoying the multiple sparks of pleasure that were running through his body.

 

Harry pulled away at last and gave Draco a cheeky grin, “maybe round three is in order?”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Hermione was worried; Blaise had said that Harry had left with Draco Malfoy last night, and so many things could have possibly happened within that situation. He could have been kidnapped, Blaise would never tell her if that was true. Draco could be torturing him right at this very moment.

 

She’d been sitting at the kitchen table for the last hour or so. Ron was in bed, asleep. He was calm at least. But she was a complete mess of worry and humility.

 

She got up and decided she should check Harry’s apartment again.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

The first thing Hermione heard when she opened the door to the apartment was groaning. Two pairs of it; it didn’t even dawn on Hermione what it could possibly mean as she walked past the lounge and opened the door to Harry’s bedroom.

 

“Shit!”

 

“Fuck; Hermione!”

 

Hermione’s face went red and she slammed the door shut, she looked into the lounge room and felt her face getting warmer and warmer, “I’m sorry!” she shouted.

 

 

(***)

 

 

She was sitting on Harry’s couch, wearing the same clothes she had last night with a fresh cup of tea in her hands. A cooling spell was placed around the cup, so she didn’t burn her hands, but the cup of tea was still nice and hot. She looked at the two men sitting in front of her on the love seat, slightly flabbergasted.

 

“So,” Hermione said, “out of all the people, you two hooked up last night.”

 

She noticed Harry biting his lip, which was the ultimate sign that he was keeping something from her.

 

“What is it?” Hermione asked, “What are you hiding from me?”

 

Draco smirked, “last night was simply an act _Hermione_ ,” he said, putting more emphasis than was needed on her name, “me and Harry have been together for quite a bit now.”

 

Hermione’s eyes widened, “how long?”

 

Draco shrugged, “maybe about...Harry what would you say?”

 

“Five months,” Harry muttered, looking down at his feet.

 

“So, two months after you and Lucas ended,” Hermione said. She looked somewhat happy, but Draco was sure the only thing keeping her from being ecstatic was the fact that it was Draco.

 

“Yeah,” Harry said, “I met him when I went for a job interview at...” Harry cursed himself, he forgot where Draco worked.

 

“Daily Prophet,” Draco said quickly, “but it was brief and we really didn’t have a moment to talk; so I asked him out for coffee,” he said with a small shrug, “and well...we decided we liked each other enough to make this go further,” he grabbed Harry’s hand and laced Harry’s fingers with his. Harry gave him a small smile.

 

Hermione nodded slowly and gave them a supportive smile, “well...I’m happy for you guys,” she said. Harry leaned his head on Draco’s shoulder and Draco gave him a fond look, “I really wish you would have told me though,” Hermione said, “it’s important.”

 

“I didn’t think you would take it so well,” Harry said, his head still on Draco’s shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. She looked up at the clock on Harry’s wall and hissed painfully, “I should get back,” she said, “I have to get going, I promised Ron we’d go out for breakfast at a new place that just opened up across the street,” she said standing up, “I’m happy for the both of you,” she said, looking at Draco and Harry who seemed cosy, “I’ll...see you later,” she said with a little laugh before making her way towards the door and leaving the apartment. She turned her back and leaned against the door; there was something fishy about what had just happened.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry waited until the shadow underneath the door disappeared and he could hear the clip clopping of high heels before he lifted his head from Draco’s shoulder and released the blonde’s hand.

 

“Thanks,” Harry said, “she’s been on me for months about getting into a relationship with someone,” he muttered, “it’s been insane.”

 

Draco laughed, “You just wait until she finds out we’re engaged.”

 

Harry pushed him off of the loveseat and got up to make himself coffee.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

The next morning, Draco went to work with a smirk on his face. There was a slight bounce in his step as well, he felt as if he didn’t have a worry in the world. As long as he kept up his side of the deal, hopefully Harry would keep up with his, and then he wouldn’t be deported to Australia.

 

As soon as he got to his office; which he had as a safety precaution for all of those involved really, he didn’t work well with others and others point blank refused to work well with him- and sat down, there was a knock on his door. He looked up to find Barnabas standing in the doorway with the door wide open. Draco hated it when he came in right after knocking, without even asking whether or not he was allowed in.

 

“Is a good time for you?” he asked.

 

“As good a time as any,” Draco grumbled, sighing and sitting back in his chair, liking how the back tilted to a position where he sat comfortably.

 

Barnabas smiled and stood near the wall. Draco didn’t have any other chairs in his office other than the one he was sitting on, he was accustomed to visitors.

 

“So,” Barnabas said, “did you speak to your fiancé?”

 

Draco bit his lip and shook his head, “about what?”

 

“About coming over to mine for dinner,” Barnabas exclaimed, “don’t tell me you forgot!”

 

Draco groaned in pretend frustration, “yeah I did,” he said, “I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment; I forgot to ask him,” he sighed, “I’ll ask him tonight when I get home.”

 

Barnabas nodded, “good,” he said, “But really; please take your time.”

 

Draco nodded slowly and waited for the man to leave his spot on the wall and leave the room, but it didn’t happen.

 

“Is there anything else you wish to speak to me about Barnabas?” Draco asked, sounding slightly impatient and a little suspicious.

 

“Well, yes,” Barnabas said, “seeing as you’re having dinner with me and my wife, I wondered if you or your fiancé are allergic to anything.”

 

Draco shrugged, “not as far as me or Harry know,” he said.

 

Barnabas gave him a curious look, “are you sure the Harry you are talking about isn’t Harry Potter?”

 

Draco bit his lip again. He really needed to get out of that habit; it was one of the most obvious tell-tale signs that he felt guilty or that he was hiding something important. He couldn’t keep anything to himself without someone finding it out just by his body language.

 

“Why, didn’t you tell me?!” Barnabas asked. He sounded like a girl who just discovered her best friend had a crush on someone; pathetic.

 

“Because,” Draco said, “I wanted to make sure Harry was comfortable coming over first before I said anything,” he lied.

 

He couldn’t tell whether or not Barnabas could tell whether he was lying. The man had the best poker face ever.

 

“Well,” Barnabas said, “dinner this Friday?” he asked.

 

“Sure,” Draco muttered under his breath, watching his boss walk away.

 

 _Prick could have closed the fucking door_.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Draco walked back into Harry’s apartment, which he tried to mentally force himself to believe was his home, just in case he made a slip up about it on Friday night. Harry was sitting on the lounge room in front of stacks of books and a singular piece of parchment, looking bored.

 

“Hey,” Harry muttered, not looking at Draco, “coffee’s ready on the bench.”

 

Draco smirked, “only a few days and you already know me so well,” Draco said cockily, heading over towards the bench where the coffee was ready in the coffee maker, “thanks,” he said, pouring himself a mug.

 

Harry threw his quill on the coffee table before grabbing the single piece of parchment in front of him and scrunching it up into a ball. He threw it over to the side, where Draco noticed several little bunches of scrunched up parchment sat.

 

“Do you need help?” Draco asked, blowing softly on the surface of his coffee, making the steam disappear slightly before reappearing again.

 

“Nope,” Harry muttered before grabbing another piece of parchment and beginning to write on it.

 

 

“I think you do,” Draco said, moving swiftly towards Harry and sitting down beside him on the couch. He placed his coffee there, looking over Harry’s shoulder to read what Harry was writing on the parchment in front of him.

 

“I got a job offering,” Harry said, “but I want to refuse,” he muttered, “and I can’t think of a way to write it nicely.”

 

Draco frowned, “what type of job offering?” he asked.

 

“Auror,” Harry answered with a small sigh of frustration, “they’re literally just giving the job to me; not even making me work for it- no junior Auror training, no nothing; just a straight up Auror position.”

 

Draco looked confused.

 

“What?” Harry asked, sounding impatient.

 

“Auror is the job you want,” Draco said, “why not just take it as it is?” he asked.

 

“Because,” Harry said, standing up and walking over to the bench to make a mug of coffee; from the way his hands shook Draco assumed it was about his twelfth mug today, “I’m not working for it like everyone else,” Harry said, “it’s all about benefits again. The benefit of being the fucking boy who lived and all that bull shit,” he muttered darkly, “everyone else is working just as hard going through junior Auror training, and they ask me without even entering so much as any form of training whether I would like to become a fully qualified Auror,” Harry sighed and raked a hand through his hair, “without a single qualification to show.”

 

Draco was still confused, “but you want to be an Auror-.”

 

“But I wouldn’t feel like I’d worked for it!” Harry exclaimed, “I don’t like things just being handed to me all because I helped kill some bad guy-.”

 

“You didn’t _help_ kill some bad guy; you literally _killed_ the bad guy-.”

 

“Voldemort practically killed himself,” Harry said angrily, “it was his own spell used against him because he was a cocky asshole who didn’t think he could die at the hands of a seventeen year old boy,” he lifted his coffee to his lips but didn’t take a sip, “or anyone for that matter.”    


Draco would never understand Harry’s modesty or intense need to be equal to everyone else. Maybe that was because currently Draco was underneath everyone else, with his reputation of being an ex Death Eater being a common fact, not only in the work place where everyone knew who he was but no one in the real world knew his fake writers name, but also in the wizarding world.

 

Sometimes, he’d have to go to Diagon Alley for some new books, new quills, the usual, and he’d still get dark or wary glances; as if he were worried he’d attack anyone at any minute and try to revive Voldemort somehow.

 

“I’m sorry,” Draco muttered, “let me help you write this letter, yeah?”

 

Harry sighed and nodded, deciding that someone like Draco Malfoy would be better at writing apologetic “I actually want to work hard for my position” letters than he was.

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Harry was heading to bed when he spotted Draco sprawled on the couch asleep; his head hanging slightly over the arm of the couch and his feet doing the same. Draco looked a lot taller on the couch that he did when he was standing up, somehow, and by far much more peaceful and innocent; his face wasn’t in its constant, never changing scowl. It was far more relaxed, like he didn’t have a worry in the world.

 

Harry scoffed; if Draco didn’t have a worry in the world, they currently wouldn’t be in this situation.


	6. Chapter 6

Benefits

 

 

Chapter Six

 

 

 

Draco sat up straight when he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat.

 

“You realise you don’t have to sleep on the couch, right?” Harry asked; standing behind the couch, his arms crossed in front of his chest almost protectively.

 

Draco sighed, “you realise you don’t have to offer your bed to me, right?” he asked back.

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “what’s the problem with it?” he asked, “Hell, you’ve already fucked me. Been there, done that. You can’t just be sleeping on the couch,” Harry said, “come on,” he tried to say encouragingly, but it came off awkward still.

 

“Potter, you don’t have to-.”

 

“I sometimes wonder whether or not you know how goddamn infuriating you can be,” Harry said, “besides, we’re on first name basis now so shut up and get in my bed.”

 

Draco shook his head and sighed moodily before getting up and making his way to Harry’s room. Though secretly he was grateful; he’d never been one for sleeping on couches, and while the couch was most definitely comfortable; it felt wrong sleeping on a couch in someone’s lounge room. Especially Harry Potter’s lounge room; but it might feel even more wrong sleeping in the man’s bed.

 

As he got into the bed, he sensed Harry walking slowly behind him. He decided not to look behind him and just got into the side of the bed that was made.

 

“You’re not used to sleeping alone,” Draco muttered, “you’re still sleeping on the one side.”

 

“I said get in my bed,” Harry said, getting into the bed on the other side he had been sleeping in previously, “not deduct my life.”

 

“My apologies,” Draco muttered. He was tired, he yawned loudly and turned his back to Harry and stared at the open doorway through to the lounge room. There was a window just in his perspective and outside he could see a full, breathtakingly beautiful moon.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

When Draco got up in the morning the bed was empty and he could hear talking in the kitchen. He got up slowly, trying to recognise the voices; but having only just woken up; his brain was working to the best of its abilities.

 

He crept into the kitchen where Harry was hastily talking to an amused looking Ronald Weasley.

 

“It’s not some weird prank Ron,” Harry muttered darkly, passing him over a cup of tea, “it’s just been happening behind your back for a long time now.”

 

“Yeah, right-,” Ron paused and turned his head; obviously having spotted Draco in the corner of his eye. His jaw went slack and he placed the cup full off hot tea on the breakfast bar slowly, “holy shit,” he muttered, he turned back to Harry, looking amazed, “you weren’t actually kidding, were you?”

 

Harry shook his head.

 

“Look, mate-.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said, giving Ron a small smile, “some days I can barely believe it either.”

 

“Can barely believe what?” Draco asked, sitting on the couch in the lounge room again. He didn’t want to sit so close to Ron, just in case the redhead suddenly decided he wanted to use Draco as a human punching bag.

 

“That we’re dating,” Harry said, busying himself by making another cup of tea. Draco watched, noticing the style in which Harry did it, the two sugars and the small drop of milk; Draco knew immediately that it was for him.

 

Ron was looking at him, as if waiting for Draco to start laughing hysterically and tell him that it had all been a joke and he couldn’t believe that either Hermione or Ron had fallen for it. Instead, he looked at Ron seriously, right into his eyes and said, “Sometimes bad things happen to good people.”

 

Ron snorted and turned back to look at Harry, “okay, maybe you’re not kidding,” he muttered, “Otherwise you would have killed him by now.”

 

Harry smirked, “oh sometimes I think about it, don’t worry about that.”

 

“At least I know you’re not completely ill then,” Ron said with an amused look, turning back to look at Draco. Draco was surprised to find that Ron’s tone wasn’t one of completely venomous hatred. It was genuinely playful. 

 

“Sometimes I wonder about my health,” Draco muttered as Harry came over and gave him a cup of tea. Harry rolled his eyes, “don’t be like that,” he muttered, “you don’t need to show off in front of Ron; I’ve already told him you’re basically like a life sized teddy bear.”

 

Draco almost choked on the small mouthful of tea he had, his eyes were wide and he looked at Harry with surprise, “excuse me?” he said, his voice sounding hoarse.

 

Draco slowly began to realise what Harry was doing. Was Harry seriously going to attempt to embarrass him? Really, was this the game he wanted to play?

 

“I’m hardly a teddy bear,” Draco said sounding amused, “compared to you anyway.”

 

Ron raised an eyebrow and Harry looked at him with a look that screamed, ‘bring on your worst Malfoy.’

 

“There was this one time when he was sick,” Draco said, “and I came home and he was on the couch and just begging for ‘cuddles’ he calls them,” Draco rolled his eyes, smirking a little as he did so, “he just wouldn’t shut up until I complied and by the time I said I needed to make dinner, he just refused to let me go.”

 

Harry knitted his eyebrows together, “Draco-.”

 

“Oh; and the time that he just desperately wanted to try-“

 

Ron was already in hysterics and Draco hadn’t even gotten onto the second false story. Harry stood there, his arms folded across his chest, glaring at him while at the same time looking amused. Draco didn’t know whether to continue or just leave it as was.

 

Ron made the decision for them, fortunately.

 

“I’ve got to head to work,” Ron said, sounding slightly disappointed as he looked at his watch, “well...kind of work,” Ron muttered, “they’re letting junior Aurors go on cases today,” Ron said, “it should be interesting,” he looked at Harry, “are you sure you don’t want to be an Auror mate?”

 

“Completely,” Harry said.

 

“That’ll make Hermione’s week,” Ron said sheepishly. He got up from his barstool and picked up a small briefcase that Draco hadn’t even noticed was there, “I might drop by later,” Ron said, “if not to come and visit; then to hear more of these hilarious stories about you being a ‘teddy bear’,” Ron said with a sadist looking grin. Harry rolled his eyes as Ron walked towards the door and waved goodbye to the two of them before leaving the apartment.

 

“I like Weasley,” Draco said, grinning at Harry, “he’s gullible enough to believe my bull shit.”

 

“Oh shut up.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Draco put on his tie with magic, never having been taught to put it on otherwise. Out of all the classy-like things they taught him; which forks go where and what they’re used for; how to speak in Latin and French fluently. Everything that could make him somewhat fanciable to a woman (ha, jokes on them) and they couldn’t even teach him how to tie a goddamn tie without using magic.

 

And the worst part was the fact that ninety-nine percent of the time, he screwed it up anyway.

 

Harry walked into the room while Draco struggled to pull the tie away from his throat. It had tied itself too tightly again and ended up in an unattractive knot. Draco had finally talked to Harry about going to Barnabas’s for dinner and Harry had suggested tonight. Draco had written to Barnabas, secretly hoping the man was busy. But alas, no; he and his wife were more than happy to have them over for dinner.

 

“Here,” Harry said, grabbing the tie from Draco’s closed fist and doing it for him, “it’s really not that hard,” he said, barely looking like he was even concentrating as he tied it up and made it look practically perfect.

 

“How’d you learn?” Draco asked.

 

“Ron taught me,” Harry muttered, “for the first few weeks of school I refused to wear my tie.”

 

Draco snorted, but not mockingly like he normally would. Just generally at the fact that Harry refused to wear a tie for the first few weeks at school. Harry had always broken the rules, but this one seemed much more amusing than the rest of them.

 

“Eleven year old rebellion,” Draco muttered, “the famous Harry Potter never ceases to amaze.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and pat the tie down onto his shirt instead of leaving it sit awkwardly, “just remember,” Harry said, turning around and grabbing his coat, “you embarrass me during this dinner and I embarrass you even more.”

 

Draco nodded, “understood.”

 

Harry put on his coat and turned to him, looking a little nervous yet at the same time determined, “ready?” he asked.

 

“Ready.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

They sat at the dinner table awkwardly, but Barnabas didn’t seem to notice their stiff stances and they’re nervous grimaces. Barnabas seemed more than happy to be sitting at the table with them; as if he had mastered some sort of massive feat. Like, he’d won something. Though, Draco doubted that was it; Draco was hardly that valuable. He wouldn’t have cared if Draco had been deported to Australia.

 

“So, Harry?” Barnabas looked at Harry with an almost sadistic grin, “when did you start dating Draco?” he asked.

 

He could hear Harry swallow nervously. They had gone over their little story about how they had happened to ‘re-connected’ and had slowly become friends, and then something more; but to actually say it out loud in front of outsiders? That was just awkward.

 

“Well,” Harry muttered, he cleared his throat and tried to look Barnabas in the eyes, “I was looking for a roommate,” he said; his voice didn’t betray any type of nervousness, not the type he had so obviously felt before. Draco was impressed, “and Draco answered and I couldn’t think of anyone better really,” Harry chuckled, “it would be someone who would happily stay out of my way and just let me do my thing, but it would be extra protection and someone who could keep up with at least half of the rent,” he said, “but then slowly we became friends and then...” Harry trailed off and grabbed Draco’s hand, which he had purposefully left sitting atop of the table. Harry trailed his thumb softly, lovingly across Draco’s knuckles and gave Draco a convincing, loving look, “we became something more,” he said at last, turning back to Barnabas, still holding Draco’s hand.

 

Draco was shocked at how real it felt. This had to be fooling Barnabas for sure.

 

“How lovely,” Barnabas said, a big goofy smile on his round face, “which one of you proposed?” he asked, “may I see the ring?”

 

Draco paused and he felt Harry’s thumb freeze over his knuckles.

 

Draco gave Barnabas a slow, convincing smile, “I didn’t get him a ring,” Draco muttered, “we didn’t want people to know about our relationship yet,” Draco looked at Harry for a moment and then turned back to Barnabas, “with Harry still being famous; people would have instantly realised if he suddenly had an engagement ring- they’d start asking questions about it.”

 

Harry nodded, “we weren’t ready to be outed,” he said, “we don’t know how well the wizarding world would take to me dating Draco...” he trailed of slowly.

 

Draco had to admit; the remark stung a little, but it was true and convincing enough. He stayed silent while he watched Barnabas absorb the information.

 

The man nodded, “so you proposed Draco?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” Draco said, his smile slowly coming back, “it was last month,” he answered Barnabas’s unasked question, “we went out to dinner and we were just about to get desert when I asked him to marry me,” Draco shrugged as if it were no big deal, which admittedly it wasn’t when it was all a bunch of lies, “he said yes and, well...” Draco bit his lip, “we haven’t picked when we’re getting married, to be honest,” he added.

 

Barnabas looked amused, “you’ll find a date shortly,” he said, “It comes naturally!”

 

Barnabas’s wife entered the room carrying a bowl of salad whilst three other plates filled with food and four other plates, empty, zoomed behind her magically. As soon as she placed the bowl of salad on the table, the other plates landed gently around it, the empty plates floating and landing gently in front of people.

 

“Dig in,” she said, smiling at both Harry and Draco warmly.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“Remind me to never fake being in a relationship with someone ever again,” Draco muttered, opening the door to Harry’s apartment, already comfortable with it temporarily being his own. Harry didn’t respond as they walked into the apartment and settled down on the couch. They were both physically and mentally exhausted. They had been asked question, after question, they’d even been asked to answer questions about the other person. It had been alarming, however, to see just how much they actually knew one another.

 

“At least the food was worth it,” Harry muttered, tired and feeling fat after dinner. He’d even had seconds, which was unusual for him.

 

“Hmm,” Draco couldn’t help but keep thinking about the remark Harry had made. Though it shouldn’t have been a surprise; in the end everyone else thought he was still number one death eater son, that’s why he would have been getting deported. All because of his affiliation with ‘the dark side,’ and it hadn’t even been his fault really.

 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, sounding genuinely worried.

 

“Yeah,” Draco lied, “I’m fine.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not uploading quickly! I've had a touch of writers block, so I started re-writing an old fanfiction of mine to try and get everything to move, but it took a while. If you want to read the other fanfiction, it's called Bad Romance and is centred around a ship I created, called Hexter, featuring Harry Potter and Dexter Morgan from the TV show DEXTER.
> 
> Anyway, I've also been going to school and trying to look for jobs and on top of that doing work experience and assignments. I am trying really hard to keep up with my fanfiction though, because it's important to me, obviously. But if you could all be patient, that'd be fantastic! I promise I will not abandon this fanfiction; I will not abandon ANY of my fanfictions. Okay? Okay.
> 
> Anyway, here is the next chapter and please remember to kudos and review because it makes me really happy! Eyyy!
> 
> But yeah, enjoy the next chapter guys. I'm about to go and write number eight.

Benefits

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

Blaise walked into Draco’s office unannounced and closed the door shut behind him before he asked, “So, how did the dinner go?”

 

“Have you ever heard of knocking Blaise?” Draco asked, “It’s this new thing and I know how much you like to keep up with the times and new fashion statements-.”

 

“Shut up Draco,” Blaise said. He looked towards one of the pot plants in the room and transformed it into a gray office chair before sitting down, crossing one leg over the other, “how did the dinner go?” he asked again, sounding impatient.

 

“Fine,” Draco said in a clipped tone, turning back to a piece he was supposed to be handing in to Barnabas that afternoon. It was about some criminal wizard trying to sell cursed collectors spoons; a bit tame considering what was happening a few years ago. Draco hoped another dark wizard would rise and try to take over the world; he’d have much more interesting pieces to write, and maybe he’d throw Blaise into the line of fire...

 

“What; just fine?” Blaise asked, looking unconvinced, “what happened?” he asked, sounding almost concerned.

 

Draco shrugged, admittedly he was still a little cut about Harry’s remark and referencing him as the Death Eater’s son. He felt that little touch hadn’t been needed, or that Harry didn’t have to say it so negatively. It would have been better if Harry had said something along the lines of ‘fuck it though, I don’t care, I love him,’ that would have been a nice finishing touch to the Death Eater remark rather than just trailing off and letting everyone guess at what he was thinking.

 

“Draco,” Blaise said in a dark tone, his eyes narrowing, “what happened? You always go quiet when something’s wrong. It’s the only time I can get you to shut up.”

 

“It’s not important Blaise,” Draco said, “I’m just being stupid.”

 

“Wow there’s definitely something wrong,” Blaise said, his eyes wide, “Malfoy’s _never_ admit to stupidity-.”

 

“Yeah well I’m not a Malfoy am I?” Draco said, slamming the papers in his hand down on the desk and giving Blaise a penetrating ice cold glare, “I haven’t been a Malfoy for a very, long, time. I am a disgrace to the Malfoy name.”

 

Blaise sighed, “Harry brought up the Death Eater thing.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes, “good going Sherlock Holmes.”

 

“So you did read that book I gave you!” Blaise exclaimed, as if he’d caught Draco out.

 

“What?”

 

“Never mind,” Blaise sighed, “but don’t let the Death Eater thing get to you...in the end you’re stronger than Potter because of it.”

 

Draco made a noise between a choke, a sob and a laugh, “how am _I_ stronger than Potter?” he asked, sounding incredulous.

 

Blaise gave him a supportive smile, pretty much warning Draco that Blaise’s next sentence would be extremely corny, “because,” he said, “you were faced with the Dark Lord everyday of your life ever since you were seventeen, and somehow you survived it all even when you weren’t obeying orders and when you were spying for the Order,” Blaise said, “Potter basically faced the man once a year.”

 

Draco gave Blaise a grim smile, “thanks Blaise,” he muttered.

 

Blaise shrugged sheepishly, “any time, Draco.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“It’s weird; you ended up with Malfoy, of all people.”

 

“Alright Ron-”

 

“I’m just saying mate.”

 

Harry shook his head slowly and looked out the window of the tiny cafe that he had been told to meet Hermione and Ron at. It was nothing special; a little abandoned if anything; and they’d been sitting there for the last few hours, talking. They hadn’t even ordered coffee, tea or hot chocolate of any kind yet.

 

“Yeah well, enough,” Harry said defensively, “it is what it is; deal with it.”

 

Ron rolled his eyes, “I have nothing against it,” he said, “so don’t get defensive with me when I’ve been showing support for you the whole time.”

 

Hermione sat there quietly, looking at the menu with a scowl on her face.

 

“Well _I’m_ just saying-“

 

“Can you two just shut up?!” Hermione snapped, slamming the menu down on the small round table, making it shake a little; it really wasn’t the most stable thing, “I’m tired of it already; it is how it is and Ron’s not trying to be judgemental Harry- he’s just shocked, that’s all.”

 

“Well you can stop being shocked!” Harry exclaimed, “I’m bloody engaged to him-.”

 

“Engaged?!” Ron responded, his voice going up an octave, “you never said anything about being engaged.”

 

“Oh, so suddenly it’s not alright anymore?” Harry asked, “Because I’m engaged to the guy, it’s suddenly wrong?”

 

“Once again,” Ron said, rolling his eyes in frustration, “that’s not what I’m saying mate.”

 

“Where’s your ring?” Hermione asked.

 

“Pardon-” Harry said. He looked around him and noticed he was standing on his feet, ready to walk out the door without saying goodbye to either of them.

 

“Where’s your ring?” Hermione asked again, “you claim you’re engaged to him, and yet, you have no ring.”

 

Harry snorted, “I never pictured you as being so materialistic Hermione-.”

 

“That’s not my intention and you know it-.”

 

Harry ignored her, storming out of the tiny cafe and entering the slightly busier street in an angry stupor. He sighed, and walked back to his apartment, when-

 

“Harry!”

 

Harry scrunched up his face in annoyance and puffed out his cheeks before turning around, facing the person he least wanted to see right now.

 

“Lucas.”

 

Lucas beamed, “what a coincidence!” he exclaimed, “We just keep running into each other like this!”

 

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes, “I’m not really in the mood for this right now Lucas,” he said, “I’m annoyed and I just want to go home.”

 

“Well then I’ll walk you home,” Lucas said with a soft smile.

 

“No,” Harry said automatically, maybe a little too fast to seem casual, “no,” Harry said slower, shaking his head, “I’m sure you’re busy and I just don’t want to be around people right now.”

 

Lucas looked a little pissed off, his face contorting with slight rage before he settled down, his expression turning from angry to sympathy, “what’s wrong?”

 

Harry sighed, “I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered, “just leave me alone. Understand?”

 

Lucas looked disappointed, “I understand.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Draco was doing it again; riffling through Harry’s things. He knew it was most definitely the wrong thing to do, especially seeing as the dark haired man had trusted him with spare keys for his apartment, considering sometimes Harry was out randomly, and Draco got home early. Harry had been out for the last hour and Draco had been listening to the outside door, waiting to hear the familiar sound of keys in the look.

 

It hadn’t happened yet and he was just reading for a singular photo album in Harry’s bookshelf.

 

He opened it and looked down at some moving photographs. They consisted mainly of Harry’s parents and Ron and Hermione at their years of Hogwarts. Draco had never really taken Harry for the sentimental type; but there were many things about the man that surprised Draco. He looked around the apartment; that was a good example.

 

He continued to look through the photos. Some of the included him and the entire Weasley family, back when he had been briefly dating Ginny. Apparently Harry didn’t visit the Weasley’s as often as he used to; he felt too awkward about it.

 

He was in the middle of the photo album when he stopped, his hands freezing and his jaw slackening.

 

He looked down at the photo of Harry and a slightly taller man. Harry looked like he was forcing his smile; his eyes dead and empty. He had never seen Harry like this; Harry looked normal. His eyes lit up all the time, even when there was nothing to seem even relatively happy about. This, this was a different Harry. The man hadn’t even looked that bad during the war.

 

The other man looked happy, menacingly so. Draco dropped the photo album as if it had burnt him and staggered back, falling onto the couch. He could practically feel the blood drain from his face as he realised who the man was.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Harry came home to seeing Draco frozen on the couch, glaring down at Harry’s one photo album, which was lying on the ground, the pages open and bending slightly.

 

“What the fuck?” Harry asked, walking over towards the photo album and picking it up, straightening the pages. He looked down at the page and his expression darkened before he took the photos out of his photo album and ripped the photo in half.

 

“How do you know him?” Draco asked.

 

Harry paused, “pardon?”

 

“How do you know Lucas?” he asked, his voice sounding gravelly.

 

Harry frowned, putting the photo album back on the bookshelf between a few Auror books and spell books, “I could ask you the same question.”

 

Draco wanted to kick something. He glared up and Harry and hissed out his answer, “Lucas was my ex-boyfriend before I dumped on him for cheating on me with some dark haired _tramp_ ,” Draco was livid, breathing heavily out of his nose and glaring at Harry harsher than he had ever glared at him while walking up and down the halls of Hogwarts.

 

“Oh so I’m a dark haired tramp now?” Harry said, sounding annoyed and slightly wounded.

 

“If the shoe fits, then wear it,” Draco muttered stubbornly.

 

“Well you didn’t seem to mind about me being a dark haired tramp before.”

 

“That was before I found out you stole my boyfriend away from me,” Draco said angrily, turning to glare darkly at Harry.

 

Harry rolled his eyes, heading towards the kitchen. He couldn’t deal with this sober, “I’ll have you know that you’re lucky,” Harry muttered darkly, “compared to me you seemed to have it easy.”

 

“Oh right, getting cheated on is so easy-.”

 

“Did you get abused by him constantly though, physically and mentally?”

 

Draco paused and turned back to look at Harry who was pouring himself a glass of Firewhiskey. Harry didn’t really seem to be overly invested in the conversation at that point. He stared moodily at the glass before drinking from it, almost drinking the whole first half of the glass in one gulp.

 

“All I wanted was a family,” he muttered darkly, still looking at the glass, “but he didn’t, and when I persisted to ask, he got angry; couldn’t take the thought that I wanted something more from him.”

 

Draco was left speechless, but it made sense about the dead look in Harry’s eyes in the photo, posing with a man he was pretending he still loved, Draco assumed.

 

“Look, I don’t really want to talk about it anymore,” Harry said after drinking the rest of the glass, putting it down softly on the bench and not looking at it; as if ashamed of having drunk it at all, “it’s in the past.”

 

Without looking back at Draco again, he stomped his way across and went into his room, slamming the door slightly behind him.

 

Draco sucked in a breath and bent his head forward until he was resting it in his hands, tiredly.

 

“Fucking hell,” he mumbled.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry didn’t come out of his room for the rest of the night and Draco didn’t feel obliged to go in there. He lay down on the couch, reading a book, not feeling tired at all. He normally would have gone to sleep by now, especially seeing as he had work tomorrow; but as he cast another tempus spell and realised it was three in the morning, there was no noticeable itch for sleep. He was wide awake and had nothing to do but read Harry’s books.

 

He had wanted to continue going through the photo album, see if there was anything else. But he couldn’t bring himself to. He had seen the slight look of betrayal on Harry’s face when he had seen it on the floor and had connected the dots.

 

Just because he was ‘living’ here now didn’t mean he had the right to snoop through Harry’s things.

 

He heard creaking and looked up to see Harry’s bedroom door opening. He pretended to be asleep while the dark haired man walked past the couch and into the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water. It was only after he heard the empty cup hit the bottom of the sink that he heard Harry speak.

 

“I know you’re not asleep Draco,” Harry muttered.

 

Draco sighed and sat up, peering at Harry from over the top the couch. The man’s hair was mused up and he was wearing a loose shirt and pyjama bottoms, sitting low on his hips. Draco would have found the sight desirable if he didn’t feel so guilty about what had happened.

 

“How did you know?” Draco asked cautiously.

 

Harry gave him a small smirk and shrugged, “I didn’t,” he muttered, “just wanted to see what would happen.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes, but regretted it an instant later. Just because Harry was talking to him on a normal level didn’t mean that he wasn’t in trouble for what he had done. But Harry didn’t seem to mind, and in fact took a step closer to the couch. He rested his hand on the top and looked down at Draco with a small smile.  


“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know?”

 

Draco frowned, “but-.”

 

“I should have expected it,” Harry said, cutting him off, “I know what you’re like and you can’t just invite someone to come live with you suddenly, and not expect them to go through your things and find out more about you,” he shrugged, “I overreacted.”

 

“You didn’t,” Draco said, “It was wrong what I did-.”

 

“Shut up,” Harry said, “before I do permanently kick you out onto the couch.”

 

Draco shut up, _it’s almost like you want to sleep with him_ , he thought to himself.

 

Draco mentally shook his head and got up slowly from the couch, watching Harry warily, “thanks,” he muttered, when he was standing up and facing Harry again.

 

Harry looked at him with a confused expression, “what for?” he asked.

 

“For forgiving me,” Draco said with a shrug before making his way to Harry’s room. Harry following close behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ey, look, it's a double chapter day. Yay!

Benefits

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

 

It was in the morning that Draco learned about the latest cover page article in the Daily Prophet. The last week he and Harry had been careful around each other, especially Draco. The incident with the photo album may have been forgiven, but it definitely hadn’t been forgotten. The only time they weren’t careful around each other was during sex. Draco smirked to himself; Harry was basically insatiable.

 

Blaise entered his office, once again without knocking and threw the latest copy of the Daily Prophet onto his desk, almost spilling Draco’s hot coffee onto his lap.

 

“Blaise,” Draco exclaimed, shocked, “what the hell?!”

 

“Read the front page!” Blaise said, as if it explained everything. He closed the door behind him and before a silencing spell before turning back to Draco, “now!”

 

Draco gave him a confused look and picked up the Daily Prophet, looking at the front page.

 

 

 

**Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, ENGAGED?**

**According to a source the couple have recently gotten engaged, though, nobody was even aware they were dating! Sources say that Harry Potter, famously known as The Boy Who Lived, was nervous about how the wizarding world would take to Harry dating a well known, ex, Death Eater; Draco Malfoy.**

**Many witches around the world had their hearts broken when the famous wizard announced that he was gay and the news hit women’s magazines everywhere. But now that he’s officially taken; there is most definitely no chance for any men or women out there; for it seems Harry Potter most definitely only has eyes for Draco Malfoy, who were seen chatting together at a cafe in muggle London, close to the London offices of The Daily Prophet itself.**

**Photographs on page three**

**The couple-**

 

At that point the newspaper began to smoke and burn a hole through the middle of the page. Before Draco could do anything, the entire newspaper turned to ash on his desk. He was livid, “who wrote it?!” Draco demanded.

 

Blaise shrugged, “I can only think of one person who writes so horribly,” he muttered, looking out the window, “he’s sitting at that desk, third on the left.”

 

Draco got up from his chair and made his way around the desk and to the small window. There was a man with curly red hair sitting at a desk not too far away, writing on multiple copies of parchment with a blue quill. He was looking through other copies of parchment and had today’s Daily Prophet sitting on his desk, practically untouched.

 

“Kingston,” Draco muttered, “of course it was fucking Kingston; he’ll do anything for a promotion.”

 

“Well, the thing is,” Blaise whispered, despite the fact that no one would be able to hear them from outside, “even if he did write it; that isn’t the big issue.”

 

“What is then?” Draco asked his voice loud and panicky.

 

“All articles have to go through Barnabas before they’re published,” Blaise muttered, “I suggest you confront him first.”

 

It finally dawned on Draco what was going on, “I can’t,” he said shaking his head, “Barnabas will expect that.”

 

“Why?” Blaise asked, not quite getting where Draco was coming from.

 

“Why would I get mad if I was actually engaged to Harry?” Draco asked, “Wouldn’t I find it a little _nice_ or something that it’s considered a front page story?”

 

“You could angry about the Death Eater comment,” Blaise said with a shrug, “I know you were angry about Harry saying it at dinner-.”

 

“I can’t let Barnabas know this affected me at all Blaise,” Draco said tiredly, “otherwise he’ll know it’s all bullshit,” Draco looked outside again, everyone was beginning to pack up their things, Draco assumed the day was over, “I need to go and tell Harry,” he said, “and I need to buy an engagement ring.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

It didn’t take Draco long to find an engagement ring that he thought would suit Harry and make it look like they truthfully were engaged and that he loved Harry dearly. It was a silver band with small diamonds forming a straight, sparkly line; nothing too dramatic but nice enough to actually be considered an engagement ring.

 

He apparated to a safe spot away from prying eyes, right near Harry’s apartment building and made his way inside. What he wasn’t counting on was a bunch of photographers from magazines waiting in the front foyer.

 

“Draco Malfoy!” one of them called out, making half of the crowd turn around and face him, “what’s it like being engaged to one of the most desirable men of our world-?”

 

“And what’s it like being the second most desirable-.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes and walked back out of the building. He was going to kill Barnabas.

 

He ran back to the appropriate apparation point and apparated right into the apartment.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“What are they doing down there?” Harry asked as soon as Draco was in the apartment. He sighed and threw himself onto the couch exhaustedly.

 

“Have you not read the Daily Prophet?” Draco asked from the couch.

 

“Yes,” Harry said, “I’m just wondering how they got my address.”

 

Draco froze, “I changed my address on my work paperwork...” Draco muttered, “just in case they needed to mail me anything-.”

 

Harry didn’t say anything as he made his own way to the couch, looking stressed, “If Lucas finds out where I live-.”

 

“He won’t,” Draco muttered, “I promise, he won’t.”

 

Harry nodded, sitting down and sighing deeply, “so, how was your day?” he asked, trying to break the tension in the room.

 

“Don’t get all domestic on me now Potter, geez,” Draco muttered, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. He suddenly remembered the engagement ring in his pocket. He dug his hand into his right pants pocket and pulled out the small jewellery box and chucked it at Harry, “here’s your engagement ring,” Draco muttered tiredly, “you obviously don’t have to wear it all the time, but at least wear it outside of the apartment. I think Barnabas was getting really suspicious about the lack of ring thing.”

 

Harry nodded and opened the box. His eyes widened slightly behind his glasses as he looked at the beautiful ring inside; but he didn’t gaze at it too long as he stuck it on his ring finger, “I feel sorry for whoever marries you in the future,” Harry muttered.

 

“Why?” Draco asked.

 

“You don’t even propose,” Harry said with a small smile, “you just say ‘chuck it on so it looks like I care.’”

 

Draco laughed, for the first time in a while it was a genuine laugh. He had been so tightly wound, trying not to fuck up. He walked cautiously, like he was constantly walking on eggshells, except the eggshells were more like atomic bombs that if he stepped on them, or just nudged them slightly, he would blow into a thousand bits. To laugh now, after being so stressed, he almost sounded crazed.

 

But Harry didn’t seem to mind. Harry just smiled at him, like he knew how scary this was for Draco. Subconsciously, Draco could feel Harry’s hand creep into his and hold it tightly, as he continued to laugh, feeling carefree, despite the amount of photographers that were sitting in the lobby of the apartment block; waiting for Draco to return.

 

Draco enjoyed the display of affection; knowing that it was genuine and not something for people to see, so they could believe in the little story they had created.

 

It felt good to be somewhat cared about.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

The next day, when Draco went to work he decided to apparate straight outside the building to once again to avoid the photographers. Harry had decided he was going to go over to Ron and Hermione’s, show off the ring to make them stop being suspicious.

 

When Draco got to his office, Barnabas was sitting in his chair, spinning around like a child would.

 

“Draco!” Barnabas said cheerfully, holding out his beefy arms, as if to hug him, “how are you my boy?”

 

Draco cocked up a brow, “fine?” he said, confused. Barnabas barely ever said endearing terms to anyone in the work place.

 

“I was just wondering if you enjoyed the article.” Barnabas said slowly, “front page; I thought you might like being considered big news.”

 

Draco frowned, there was an insult in there somewhere, “didn’t really like the Death Eater remark, if I be honest with myself,” he said, “but other than that the article seemed somewhat acceptable,” he smirked, “maybe I should write it next time; so you can actually get decent coverage.”

 

Barnabas smiled, it wasn’t friendly. It was...Draco couldn’t even describe the dark grin the man gave him, “conflict of interest.”

 

“Better than giving the job to a horrible writer like Kingston,” Draco said with a smirk of his own. The look that replaced Barnabas’s grin was something akin to shock, “oh, you didn’t think I wouldn’t figure it out?” Draco asked, “I know for a fact that he would do anything to get a promotion; fairly so, he’s been working here for about five years with no raise or promotion or anything. The only thing he’s gotten from this stinking place is a new chair after it broke; and even that took a week and a half.”

 

Barnabas straightened up in Draco’s chair, “I don’t know what you have against me Draco, but; you best be careful with that tongue of yours-.”

 

“What I have against you,” Draco began, “is the fact that I work here and yet you didn’t consult me about the article before printing it off. It’s an invasion of my privacy-.”

 

Barnabas shrugged, “we invade everyone’s privacy.”

 

“But I _work_ here!”

 

Barnabas smirked, “on the paperwork, it says Draco Malfoy has no affiliation whatsoever with the Daily Prophet.”

 

Draco froze. Barnabas was right; he had an alias. All his paperwork; alias, every article he had ever written; alias. The only people who knew that Draco worked for the Daily Prophet were those who worked on this floor and Harry. Nobody else knew; otherwise Barnabas would have been shunned and it would have caused havoc.

 

Barnabas nodded and got out of Draco’s seat, “I’ve always wondered about the lack of photographs on this desk,” he said, looking at it with a blank stare, “you’d think you’d have at least some photographs of you and Harry.”

 

He walked past Draco with a small smile and made his way back to his office. Draco stood frozen, still in the doorway of his office.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“You want to quit your job?”

 

Draco nodded, pacing in front of the couch and Harry’s coffee table. He’d been thinking about it all the day; the only reason he was really working was because he was bored. He didn’t have much money, since the Ministry of Magic decided ‘criminals’ shouldn’t be rich. The pay was horrible anyways; too many workers, not enough funding, therefore barely enough money to pay everyone decently.

 

Also, Barnabas seemed to have it out for him.

 

“You can’t,” Harry muttered, “He’ll think it suspicious.”

 

“I’m quitting because he’s a fucking douche bag,” Draco muttered, “no other reason.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “that’s really not a good enough reason considering the circumstances,” Harry muttered, “what you _need_ ; is to get offered another job.”

 

Draco paused, “I’m listening.”

 

“You need to find something similar to the Daily Prophet that has better pay,” Harry said with a shrug, “and considering your new-found fame through our ‘star crossed lovers’ story, I’m sure everyone would jump to hire you if you offered your services.”

 

Draco turned to Harry with a shocked look on his face, “maybe there is a little bit of Slytherin in you after all.”

 

Harry smirked, “I wouldn’t mind a little bit of Slytherin in me right now...if you know what I mean...”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

They both lay, panting on Harry’s bed, covered in sweat. Draco turned to Harry who was raking a hand through his hair, gazing at the ceiling.

 

“I swear you get better and better every time,” Harry said breathlessly, “damn Draco...”

 

“Who knew you were so horny all the time,” Draco laughed to himself, “they should call you Horny Harry in newspapers; not The Boy Who Lived.”

 

Harry laughed, “Horny Harry, or Promiscuous Potter?”

 

“Both seem rather fitting,” Draco said with a smile. He placed his hand on Harry’s naked thigh, eyeing the man’s half hard cock, “ready for round two already Potter?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah. Wait. What's this? Three chapters in one day?! Teagan, what u doin' u gonna kill da fangirls stahp!
> 
> No, but seriously. I feel bad for the massive break I took. So; here's me making up for it. 
> 
> I might upload a fourth if I can get it finished :) 
> 
> Remember to review and stuff like that >.> *awkward shuffle*

Benefits

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

 

 

 

Harry was woken up at twelve, being shaken harshly by someone.

 

“What?” he groaned, curling in on himself and shoving his face into his pillow, frustrated.

 

“You need to get up,” a female voice said above him, “are you... _naked_?”

 

Harry looked up to see the blurry outline of Hermione standing above him, looking a little impatient and now, embarrassed.

 

Harry sighed and turned onto his back, “yes,” Harry muttered, “nowadays, I’m naked quite often-.”

 

“Didn’t need to hear that,” Hermione muttered.

 

“Then don’t come into my apartment unannounced, you might see something you don’t want to,” Harry said with a smirk. Hermione rolled her eyes and left the room, closing the door behind her so Harry could put his clothing on.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“Now, why exactly are you here?” Harry asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose tiredly.

 

“You’re getting married,” Hermione said, “may as well start planning the wedding.”

 

Harry scowled, looking down at the ring on his finger. It shone brightly, “really, you wake me up so I can plan my _wedding_?”

 

“It’s important!” Hermione exclaimed, “Besides, you should have been up and awake hours ago.”

 

“I had a busy night,” Harry said with a smirk.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down on the couch, papers scattered in front of her.

 

Harry sat down next to her, “what’s with all the paper?” he asked.

 

“Invitations,” Hermione said with a smile, “and just general planning papers,” she said, motioning a hand towards them, “today; you’re going to get all of this prepared and you’re going to pick a date,” she said, “Draco told me to make you do it, while he go and searches for another job,” she frowned, “what happened to his previous one?” she asked, “where did he work?”

 

Harry sighed and stood up, “if we’re playing twenty-one questions, I’m going to need coffee.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Draco came home from job searching, a grin on his face, just when Harry and Hermione were trying to pick a date.

 

“What do you say about October fifth?” Harry asked, “It’s two months away, I think that’s plenty of time.”

 

“That’s plenty of time, if you have people doing the work for you,” Draco said, his grin falling, “I don’t have money to pay people-.”

 

“I have money,” Harry muttered, “in case you haven’t noticed,” Harry said, motioning towards the state of the apartment, “I have a metric fucktonne of money that I’m more than happy to spend on our wedding.”

 

Draco frowned, but didn’t want to have this argument in front of Hermione. It would only make her more suspicious.

 

“Fine,” he said, sitting down next to Harry and holding his hand. It was becoming more of a habit now, than actually having to force his body to do it just because they had company.

 

“October fifth,” Draco muttered, “why that date in particular?” he asked.

 

Harry shrugged, “nobody is doing anything that day,” he said nonchalantly.

 

Draco frowned at Harry suspiciously, but didn’t say anything.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Hermione and Ron left at around ten o’clock at night, having had dinner with them. Ron had come over at five, trying to help as much as he could. He seemed happy for Harry, but Harry couldn’t forget how much Ron had hounded him.

 

Harry sighed and sat on the couch, holding an envelope in his grip. He was waiting for Draco to get out of the shower.

 

There was a tap on his shoulder, which made him jump. He turned around hastily and saw Draco grinning down at him. Pyjama pants riding low on his hips, he wore nothing on his torso. Harry swallowed harshly and turned back to the envelope as Draco came to sit down next to him.

 

“What’s that?” Draco asked, looking down at the envelope suspiciously.

 

Harry gave him the envelope and didn’t say a word.

 

Draco slowly opened it, cutting his finger on the paper. He brought the bleeding finger to his mouth and sucked it, Harry tried not to watch. He bit his lip softly and looked at the far wall.

 

Draco opened it and read the contents, frowning at first. Then, slowly, his jaw began to slacken and his eyes began to tear up.

 

“How did you-?”

 

“Well, seeing as you’re getting married, it’s cruel to not let your parents come to the wedding,” Harry shrugged, “so they’re no longer getting deported, as long as you marry me and stay married for about six months,” Harry said, coughing slightly in an attempt to hide the words.

 

But Draco wasn’t even mad. He flung his arms around Harry and hugged him tightly, “thank you,” he muttered, “thank you so much.”

 

Draco froze, “but how did you know?” he asked, “I never told you they were getting deported.”

 

Harry smiled, “let’s just say after you snooped through my stuff, I snooped through yours,” Harry muttered, his face heating up, “so, are we even now?” he asked.

 

Draco nodded, not even annoyed that Harry had gone through his things, “we’re even.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry couldn’t help but think how weird things were. While pretending to be madly in love with each other; eternally the happy couple, engaged to be wed, probably with the possibility of children in their future- he and Draco had become friends. To think that it had all started with a drunken one night stand and had escalated to this point made Harry wonder what would have happened if he and Draco hadn’t both gone to that gay club that night.

 

Their growing friendship was unconventional, but Harry liked it.

 

He wondered maybe, if would actually grow into a relationship. Did he want to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy? He seemed plenty nice now; like he would make a good boyfriend and future husband- at least nicer than Lucas- but was it just an act to make sure Harry didn’t squirm out of the deal? Even if Draco was being a complete dick, he wouldn’t squirm out of the deal; unless he was abusing him. But if it was generally his dick-ish self, like he had been in school, Harry would have just rolled his eyes and dealt with it; like he had done in school.

 

Harry turned to his side, looking out the window of his bedroom and wondering to himself. Would an _actual_ relationship with Draco Malfoy be such a bad thing?

 

Did he _like_ Draco Malfoy?

 

Harry laughed to himself, no, surely not.

 

He felt an arm wrap around his waist and a body pull itself closer to him. He looked over his shoulder, hissing slightly as a muscle spasmed in his neck. Draco was asleep, unconsciously dragging himself closer to Harry.

 

Harry smiled softly at the blonde before turning back to the window and looking out it. Making himself more comfortable in the blonde’s relaxed grip; he closed his eyes.

 

The question still rang repetitively in his mind. Did he _like_ Draco Malfoy?

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Every morning Harry would walk down the stairs from his apartment and encounter multiple photographers from different magazines. The people at the front desk were constantly confused, wondering generally why he was so important.

 

Harry wondered the same thing every day.

 

Today, he was meeting Hermione at a shop which had wedding dresses and tuxedos.

 

Harry admitted to himself that he was excited to get married, even if it would only last for about six months and then they’d get a divorce and go their separate ways. He’d always wanted to get married and start a family; he’d hoped that’d happen with Lucas. He shook his head, now was not the time to think about Lucas. Now was to think about the fact that he was at least getting married.

 

Maybe after he divorced Draco he’d find someone who would be willing to marry him and start a family, even if he had been married once before.

 

He made his way to the store, seeing as he lived reasonably close to it. Hermione was waiting, sitting in a comfortable looking blue faux leather lounge, standing next to a row of mannequins cheesily posing in tuxedos.

 

“I think I’m afraid of mannequins now,” Harry said, walking up to Hermione.

 

Hermione looked up, “I really don’t blame you,” she smiled up at Harry, “you ready?” she asked. She picked up the portable coffee mug sitting next to her on a small table next to the lounge, she took a sip and looked at the magazines below, “they’re meant to help you pick if you aren’t stuck on any of these.”

 

Harry shrugged, “I’m really not picky.”

 

Hermione beamed, “good, because I am!” she said, standing up, “now let’s get you trying on some tuxedos or suits.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry settled on an ash coloured suit with a white tie. It brought out the green in his eyes and the darkness of his hair in a way no other colour would. He was pleased with it, and bought it without trying on another suit and tuxedo.

 

“Good choice,” Hermione said with a smile. Her eyes looked a little moist. Harry shook his head fondly, “don’t you dare get emotional on me,” Harry said, rubbing her back softly.

 

“Sorry,” Hermione said with a small laugh, “but you’re getting _married_.”

 

Harry felt a pang of guilt flow through him. Here was Hermione, all excited for him. She had thought from the beginning that it was a fake relationship, but she must have changed her mind. She was being nicer to Draco, taking Harry out to buy suits...and to think he’d only be getting divorced six months after the wedding...

 

Harry shook his head; he couldn’t let Hermione change his mind. He’d come up with an excuse for when the time came.

 

He still felt guilty.

 

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Draco had already bought his suit, a while back when he thought he was going to marry Lucas. It sat on Harry’s bed, it looked depressing. The suit was black with a green tie; Draco used to love it but now he hated it; and it didn’t feel right when he put it on.

 

Draco stood back in his underwear looking at it. He sighed, frowning at it before levitating it above the floor and setting it aflame.

 

He was not wearing that suit to his and Harry’s wedding.

 

 _Even if it’s fake_ , he reminded himself.

 

He heard the door open in the lounge room and hurried to get his clothes back on.

 

 _Why_? He thought to himself, _Harry’s seen everything before_.

 

Draco rolled his eyes, continuing to get his clothing back on.

 

The door to the bedroom opened just as he was getting his shirt back on.

 

“Hey Draco-, are you alright?” Harry asked, cocking up a brow. He was holding a bag which Draco assumed held his suit, “and what’s with the ash?” he asked, pointing towards somewhere behind Draco. Draco turned around and remembered the pile of ash that used to be his suit.

 

“Long story,” Draco muttered, “nothing you have to be concerned about though. I promise.”

 

Harry frowned, “right...okay...” he slowly walked back out of the room, closing the door as he did so.

 

Draco sighed and made the pile of ash disappear with a flick of his wand.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“I quit,” Draco said, standing in front of the mirror in Harry’s room. He straightened his usual work tie for the fourth time in a row and flattened his work suit, “I. Quit.”

 

“You really have to practise that in front of the mirror?” Harry asked, lying in bed reading a book, “it’s not that hard.”

 

“I want it to have some effect,” Draco said with a shrug, “I want him to know I’m never, ever coming back.”

 

“How about you say, ‘I quit you piece of shit,’ and then strut out,” Harry said, “He’ll never forget you.”

 

“I’m not that much of a drama queen,” Draco said with a frown.

 

Harry bookmarked the page he was on and looked up at Draco with an amused expression, “you could have fooled me,” he muttered.

 

Draco sighed and whipped off the tie, paused, then took off the rest of his clothing, stripping down to just his briefs and hoping into bed. Groaning and throwing his head into the pillow, “why is this so _fucking_ hard?”

 

Harry subconsciously moved his hand away from the book he was holding and began playing with Draco’s hair. Normally Draco would slap his hand away, but he let it go on this time.

 

“You’ve been working there for a while,” Harry muttered, “of course it’s going to be hard,” he continued to play with the blonde’s hair as he slowly began to relax; his breathing becoming less erratic. He turned to look at Harry; the look was gentle, maybe even a little thankful. Draco grabbed his hand and placed it on the top of the bed before tracing patterns softly up and down Harry’s forearm.

 

“D-did you find someone who would hire you?” Harry asked, stammering slightly. It tickled.

 

Draco nodded, “Witch Weekly, funnily enough,” he said with a small smile, his face flushing red slightly, “thought it would be fun if I did an article on us, about my _deep_ and _passionate_ love for you.”

 

Harry laughed, “I look forward to reading about it.”

 

_Why the fuck did I say that?_

 

“You better be,” Draco said with a grin.

 

 _Draco you cannot flirt with Harry_.

 

 _Is he flirting with me?_ Harry wondered; enjoying the way Draco’s fingers traced his skin. He shuddered slightly when Draco touched a really sensitive spot. Though, the ex-Slytherin didn’t seem to notice, and if he did he didn’t let it on.

 

Draco was looking at him funnily; Harry gazed back at him calmly. Draco licked his lips and Harry wondered if Draco was going to kiss him.

 

“Well, I guess I have a big day tomorrow,” Draco said, “I have to pick out a suit for this wedding now don’t I.”

 

He stopped moving the tip of his finger across Harry’s skin and buried himself in the bed sheet before turning off the lamp on his side of the bed. Harry sat there dazed, as Draco buried himself to the point where Harry could only see a tuft of blonde hair protruding from the top of the duvet.

 

Harry sighed quietly before placing the book he almost forgot he was holding on the bedside table and turning off the lamp on his side of the bed. He didn’t bury himself into the covers like Draco had done, but he didn’t bury himself a decent amount before closing his eyes and trying to fall asleep.

 

He dreamt of fingers trailing softly against his flesh, hands in his hair and lips on his neck.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to write a quick chapter before going to school, and I was rather pleased with it. I told myself, "if it isn't good enough, just re-write it this afternoon" but I think I did reasonably well. So here it is; I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> It's awesome seeing so many nice reviews and I got 23 more kudos...damn guys :D it made me so happy!
> 
> Anyway; I hope you enjoy this chapter and if you have any ideas, lemme know.
> 
> Go and like my facebook page; www.facebook.com/HarryFreakingSnape

Benefits

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

 

 

“I quit.”

 

Barnabas sat at his desk, shocked; papers magically sorting themselves out in front of him. The windows behind him were magically getting cleaned by their janitors. It only took a few flicks of a wand; Draco didn’t understand why they even bothered with janitors. It meant less money for those who actually sat at their desks, working for hours.

 

The cleaners stopped their work and turned to watch Draco as what they had just cleaned slowly crept back onto the window; they hadn’t completed the spell. They looked at him with shock, maybe even slight admiration.

 

Barnabas looked enraged, “you what!?” he asked.

 

“I. Quit,” Draco said with a sardonic grin, “simple.”

 

Barnabas’s beefy face began to grow red with anger, “how dare you!?” he asked stupidly, “and after everything I’ve done for you, no less!”

 

Draco smiled, “oh yes, harassed me in the work place, printed out an article about myself that I wasn’t all too comfortable with-.”

 

“I gave you a second chance!” the man stood up and poked Draco’s chest with a fat finger. He was trying to intimidate Draco; this was always Barnabas’s tactic when he didn’t get his own way. Intimidate the threat.

 

But it wasn’t working for Draco this time.

 

“Oh, yes I know,” Draco said with a careless shrug, “and funny enough it seems you’ve given me my _third_ chance, by writing that article.”

 

“ _Excuse me_?!” Barnabas turned to look back at the janitors, as if they knew what Draco was on about. They all just looked at each other and shrugged.

 

“Well, you see,” Draco said, a smirk settling nicely on his lips, “due to your article I have been more desirable than ever, even with the mention of my past experiences of being a _Death Eater_ ,” he lifted up both sleeves on the jacked of his work suit and showed both forearms to Barnabas. One was completely clear, pale, unmarked by blemishes or freckles. The other had a large, round scar around it, where the dark mark used to be.

 

“In fact,” Draco continued on, “so desirable I was able to get another job easily, as long as I promise to write a _decent_ article about _mine_ and _Harry’s_ love life that I was _comfortable_ with.”

 

Barnabas rolled his eyes and chuckled unbelievingly, his finger still denting Draco’s chest, “and where would that be Draco?”

 

“Witch Weekly.”

 

Barnabas burst out with laughter, his finger slipping off of Draco’s chest. He almost stumbled and flipped over the table in his fit of laughter. He sat down back in his chest, continuing to laugh as if Draco had told the best joke in the world.

 

“Witch Weekly eh?!” Barnabas said with a look on his face that made Draco want to curse the man into oblivion, “really; one of the most pathetically feminine, run by _women_ magazines in our world!?”

 

“And yet with higher ratings than you,” Draco said, his smirk slowly creeping back on his face, “well, at least their article about me and Harry was higher rated. Had more information, detail, seemed more realistic and less judgemental,” he said, “not many people like it when Harry Potter get’s judged it seems.”  

 

Barnabas froze.

 

“Also, with me on the panel, they will get higher ratings,” Draco said with a smile, “have you not noticed just how famous I am lately?” he was about to deliver the kicker, “all thanks to you, I’m getting a better job and a higher ranking magazine, whilst you, you’re losing your best worker.”

 

Barnabas’s breath was laboured, “people like you just don’t win do they Barnabas?” Draco asked in a sickly sweet voice, “you try so hard but then you do something idiotic and selfish that tarnishes it all.”

 

Draco turned around and headed for the door. He felt he had most definitely said enough. He hoped he’d made the man realise what had fucked him up in the long run, and that he would never make the same mistake again with any of his other workers.

 

Before leaving the room, he turned back and looked through the doorway at Barnabas, who was sitting at his desk, his face still red and his breathing still laboured, looking like he was about to throw a tantrum.

 

“Goodbye, Barnabas,” Draco said with a soft smile, “it’s hasn’t been so lovely working with you.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Draco sat on the lounge room couch, coffee from the cafe down the street in his hand, his jacket off, his tie loosened, and the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He couldn’t believe he’d done it. It was over; he was no longer working for the Daily Prophet. Though, that evening the ministry of magic had mailed him, aware of his job loss; telling him that his next boss was to watch over him and to report if there was any inaccuracies in the information given to them.

 

They were still making sure, in other words, that he wasn’t lying about being engaged to Harry and that he fully intended to go through with the marriage.

 

Which Draco did

 

 _Then you’ll divorce him,_ Draco reminded himself, _and you’ll go your separate ways._

 

Draco frowned; he didn’t like how he had to keep reminding himself that.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

When Harry got home, carrying multiple bags of who-knows-what, Draco was lying on the couch, reading through the Daily Prophet with him and Harry’s engagement news on the front cover.

 

“How did it go?” Harry asked, reminded that Draco was going to quit his job today.

 

Draco looked at him, tilting his head back on the arm of the couch making Harry upside down, “it went really well,” Draco said with a smile on his face, a genuine smile that made Harry smile back, “everything I said, could have no way, been practised in a mirror.”

 

Draco sat up as Harry walking into his room and chucked the bags on his bed, “that’s awesome,” Harry said from inside his room, “I’m glad it went well!”

 

Harry walked back out to see Draco peering at him curiously, “what’s in the bags?” he asked.

 

Harry shrugged, “nothing important,” he said, “just a bunch of books about...stuff.”

 

Draco smirked, “I swear, if they’re sex books-.”

 

Harry hastily shook his head, “no, no, they’re not sex books!”

 

Draco nodded slowly, slightly disappointed.

 

“They’re books on journalism.”

 

Draco’s eyes widened. He stood up slowly, his bare feet touching the soft carpet. His toes kind of sunk into it; when he got back to living in his apartment, he was definitely getting carpet like this.

 

“Books on journalism?” he looked at Harry with shock, “I didn’t know you had an interest in journalism.”

 

Harry shrugged, “well, I never used to, until...” he averted his eyes and looked at the far wall, “you know, until the article.”

 

 _Until you met Draco more like_ , Harry thought to himself, _you’re seriously so pathetic Harry_.

 

Draco nodded, “cool,” he said with a small smile, “do you need any help or...?”

 

Harry shook his head, “no, I’m sure I’ll be able to understand it all.”

 

Harry turned to walk in the room, but Draco followed him, “surely there has to be at least _one_ sex book in there; that’s way too many journalism books-.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “alright, there’s one, so shut up.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Draco thrust into Harry harder and harder at the slightly smaller, dark haired man’s request, said man moaned beneath him. He could feel short finger nails digging into the flesh of his back and pulling harshly; Draco knew there would be a lot of marks there in the morning.

 

Harry threw his head back, exposing his neck to Draco who bent down and kissed him softly, before biting a soft bit of flesh and sucking it between his teeth. He heard Harry hiss, in pain in his ear, but then Draco hit his sweet spot again, making the man’s legs wrap around him tighter; one of his hands curling up into Draco’s hair and another hand still clawing at his back.

 

Releasing the flesh of Harry’s neck, Draco bent down and kissed Harry softly. It was compared innocent to what they were currently doing, but it seemed to set their bodies on fire; they seemed more sensitive to every moment, every touch.

 

It was generally a rule that they didn’t kiss unless deemed necessary, but Draco couldn’t help himself. He slowed his pace, Harry panting underneath him, he kissed Harry hungrily, one of his own hands burying into the back of Harry’s hair, tugging slightly. He pulled Harry’s head back and began to thrust harder, still kissing Harry like his life depended on it.

 

When the kiss ended, Harry looked up at Draco, his pupils dilated, but his expression confused; almost lost looking.

 

Draco ignored and just began thrusting harder and faster.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

They didn’t talk about the kiss, they barely even talked about the sex, which was something Draco couldn’t help but do, because normally it would make Harry’s face redden deliciously and give Draco a form of entertainment for days.

 

But they didn’t say a word to each other, unless it was about...journalism.

 

“Write a pretend article,” Draco said, “and I’ll give it a look over.”

 

Harry shook his head hastily, “no way,” he said, “I’ve seen your articles and you’re a much better writer than I am.”

 

“So?” Draco asked, “Practise,” he picked up a spare piece of parchment and a quill and passed it to Harry, “these are the quills you don’t have to constantly refill, yeah?”

 

Harry nodded, “what the hell am I going to write about?” he asked, sounding a little annoyed.

 

“Me!” Draco exclaimed, “And my devilishly handsome good looks.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “you’re so up yourself,” he sighed, “I have no idea what I see in you.”

 

Draco smirked, “and what do you see in me Potter?”

 

Harry froze, looking down at his hands which held the parchment and quill. He looked up slowly; he almost looked like a deer caught in headlights, but then he shook his head and he went back to normal, “absolutely nothing,” he said, “I was kidding.”

 

Harry placed the parchment on the coffee table and began to write.

 

“What are you writing about?” Draco asked.

 

“About how much of a prat you are,” Harry muttered as he continued to write, words appearing on the parchment quicker than Draco could talk.

 

Draco went into the kitchen and made himself a mug of coffee, feeling a pinch of disappointment.

 

He just didn’t know why.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

_Blaise,_

_How’s work? Is it weird without me being there? I don’t mean that in a stuck up way, but if you need someone to annoy during lunch breaks, just contact me and I’ll meet up with you somewhere._

_How’s Barnabas taking it all? Is he taking out his frustrations on the other journalists or is he sticking to himself?_

_I hope you’re alright._

_I think you should get another job though; maybe I’ll throw in a good word for you at Witch Weekly on my first day? Apparently my boss in one hundred times nicer than Barnabas Cuffe, and I’m sure if he saw your skills, he’d be willing to hire you._

_Talk to you soon,_

 

(***)

 

 

Blaise was sitting in front of him, sipping from a cup of tea, “its crazy,” he says, “I’m downright fucking exhausted, all because as soon as you left he threw all the assignments you had at me,” he said angrily.

 

“You’re not angry with me, are you?” Draco asked, looking a little concerned.

 

Blaise shook his head, placing his cup of tea down on the small round table. They were sitting outside of the small cafe that was right across from the Daily Prophet; the one that Harry and Draco had been spotted in, that had been mentioned in the article.

 

“No way,” Blaise said, “I couldn’t be mad you, considering I know the reasons you left,” he said, “I just feel like it’s karma for being your friend.”

 

“You should consider getting another job,” Draco said, sipping from his own tea, “I definitely suggest Witch Weekly. Pansy might laugh at you for it, but the atmosphere is generally nicer and the lunch break is twenty minutes longer.”

 

Blaise nodded slowly.

 

“Plus the pay is better...” Draco muttered quietly.

 

“I’m in,” Blaise said, “you had me at Pansy laughing at me for it.”

 

Draco cocked up a confused brow, “why?”

 

“She’s constantly moody at the moment,” Blaise said, “I would rather her laugh at me for my job than her throwing stuff at me and shouting at me when I did nothing wrong...but you know what women are like.”

 

“That’s disgustingly sexist,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

 

“True,” Blaise nodded slowly, “better stop staying stuff like that if I want to get hired at Witch Weekly.”

 

Draco nodded, not really paying attention. He was thinking about the fact that Pansy was constantly moody; randomly throwing tantrums when Blaise hadn’t even done anything wrong.

 

“Has she been eating a lot lately?” Draco asked.

 

“What?”

 

“Has. Pansy. Been. Eating. A. Lot. Lately,” Draco said slowly, making sure Blaise understood.

 

Blaise nodded, “won’t stop.”

 

Draco smirked, “I’d honestly suggest that she go and get a pregnancy test you absolute man whore.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“I don’t think you’ll need to write so much at Witch Weekly,” Draco said from the kitchen, “they’ve actually got magically powered computers, same styling as what the muggles have but with no use for electricity, at Witch Weekly.”

 

Harry turned around and glared at him, “are you fucking kidding me.”

 

Draco smiled behind his mug of coffee, “nope, I went in there today to hand in some paperwork and mentioned your name to them and noticed they had a bunch of computers there.”

 

Harry frowned, “why would you mention my name?” he asked.

 

“Well,” Draco shrugged, placing his mug of coffee on the bench and getting up to sit on it. He knew how much Harry hated it, but he was sure he had Harry completely distracted at this point, “the thing is; after all this has happened, I wouldn’t mind keeping you around,” Draco said, “as a friend,” he hastily added. A small look of disappointment swept across Harry’s face but it was gone within seconds.

 

“Oh?” Harry asked.

 

“So why not make you one of my colleagues?” Draco asked, “I put in good word for you and in case you hadn’t noticed, your ‘article’ on how much of a prat I am is missing from your stack,” Draco said, pointing at the stack of parchment sitting next to Harry. Harry’s eyes widened and he began looking through the stack of parchment while Draco smirked.

 

“You didn’t,” Harry hissed.

 

“Oh, but I did,” Draco said, almost in a cocky tone, “They thought it was brilliantly written and downright hilarious at the same time. They want you to come and work with them.”

 

Harry looked at him with disbelief, “you suck,” he muttered.

 

“I know,” Draco said, getting off the bench, “well, at least you would know.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “thank you.”

 

“For showing them your work?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” Harry muttered.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question; from this point on, would you like more descriptive sex scenes? Also, would you mind if I threw in maybe a little kink that one of them could have? I don't know, I just want something to happen that makes them kind of closer, because, knowing secrets about each other and all. Up to you guys ^_^ x
> 
> With the way I talk in these little notes, you wouldn't think me a writer, would you?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, I wrote this chapter while sitting in my math class and through lunch time, I literally just finished the chapter and now I'm about to head off to my English class. If I'm not doing anything, I'll write the next chapter.
> 
> Enjoy ^_^ remember to comment ;)

Benefits

 

 

Chapter Eleven

 

 

 

Draco was incredibly nervous. It was stupid to be so nervous, because it wouldn’t affect him in the long run, but nerves ran through him crazily, making his skin itch, fingers twitch, and his foot tap on the tiles of the Ministry of Magic.

 

His parents had been locked up temporarily while they were getting ready to be deported. The same would have happened to Draco if he hadn’t come up with the story that he was engaged, to Harry Potter no less. Today he was picking up his parents and taking them back to Harry’s apartment, where they were going to ‘meet’ Harry for the first time ever since the war.

 

He didn’t know how they would respond to him. How they still felt about being on the losing side of the war. It was mainly his father who would act out and cause damage, but if his mother was disappointed, she would definitely let him know it.

 

“Mr Malfoy?”

 

He looked up and a ministry worker in purple robes came out into the waiting hall.

 

“Your parents are ready to leave.”

 

Draco nodded hastily and got up, making his way towards the far room at the end. He looked through the small window and a man was standing there, talking to his parents. His father looked bored, almost. His mother noticed Draco in the corner of her eye and smiled at him softly.

 

A man made a motion towards the door with his hand and both his parents began to leave the room.

 

“I don’t quite understand the special consideration,” Narcissa muttered under her breath to her husband, “if it were anyone else-.”

 

“Draco.”

 

Draco didn’t smile; he just nodded and muttered a small greeting.

 

“Don’t be afraid to talk,” Narcissa said sweetly, like she used to talk to Draco before the stresses of the war settled on the families shoulders.

 

“You’re not in trouble,” Lucius said, “in fact, I’m rather proud.”

 

Draco snapped his head up, “what?”

 

“Pardon,” Narcissa corrected.

 

Draco tried hard to not roll his eyes, “pardon?” he corrected himself.

 

“I’m proud,” Lucius said, “now...take us to where you and Harry live.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry didn’t know whether or not he should be nervous considering this wasn’t a permanent situation. Should he really try to make a good impression?

 

Of course; it would be stupid not to. Otherwise; it would just prove that the whole situation was a lie to keep Draco in the UK.

 

 _Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that_.

 

Harry rolled his eyes at himself.

 

He had come to terms with the fact that he liked Draco, whether as a friend or something more, he wasn’t quite sure. But he definitely liked the man in some way, and he felt it was more the second option than the first. But, the more he repeated that, the surer he was that it was true and he couldn’t deal with those thoughts at the moment.

 

He could hear the apartment key in the lock and he looked up, he had been sitting in the lounge room for the last hour, waiting nervously. His palms were sweating like crazy; he’d kept rubbing them on his good trousers, to the point where all down his trousers there were little dark spots of palm sweat. He’d gone and changed into another semi-decent pair.

 

“Hey,” Draco said, smiling at him as he walked into the lounge room. He automatically walked over and pecked Harry on the lips. Harry was almost convinced by the act. He wished he could go further.

 

 _Stop it you fucking twat_.

 

Harry thought another couple of indecencies about himself, which he hoped didn’t show on his face. 

 

“Hey,” he said to Draco, softly before standing up and watching as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy walked through the door, looking around the apartment in surprise.

 

“Nice taste, Draco,” Narcissa said with an impressed smile.

 

“Harry’s apartment actually,” Draco said, “I moved in here.”

 

Narcissa looked even more surprised. Lucius was still looking around the apartment appreciatively.

 

Lucius held out a hand for Harry to shake, which he did, remembering what Draco said about his father determining one’s self worth from a handshake. He tried not to make his hand floppy like a fish, and more strong and confident. Lucius seemed pleased enough when the handshake ended.

 

Narcissa leaned in and pecked Harry on the cheek like Draco told Harry she would, and he tried to keep his face blank, like Draco had told him to, as Narcissa’s sparkling blue eyes surveyed him coolly.

 

“Harry Potter,” she said, “it’s nice to see you again.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

The evening had gone well. Though Harry didn’t know how he had contained himself through-out the evening, with Draco subtly touching him every so often, as if to show he felt genuine affection towards him. Harry was almost convinced himself, but he knew the occasional hand on his leg and the head leaning on his shoulder were just for show.

 

Though with every soft touch and small smile, he just wanted to brutally fuck Draco and it could have been anywhere and he would have been happy. On the kitchen bench, on the shower, on the bed, on the couch, on the floor; hell he wouldn’t have cared if it was outside in the dumpster. Though, he was sure the person living in there would care.

 

Now, Harry was sitting in the lounge room, finishing off his glass of some expensive wine that Draco had picked up late last night, which was supposedly both famous and expensive in the muggle and wizarding world. Harry hadn’t drunken much of it. While his mouth had been incredibly dry, he felt his stomach wouldn’t have been able to handle it if he drank too much of the overly expensive alcoholic grape juice.

 

Draco was standing outside with his parents. He could hear hushed voices outside the door and Harry was tempted to stand at the door and listen in, but the last thing he needed was Draco randomly entering the apartment, and his parents standing there thinking not only was he Harry Potter, but he was also an eavesdropper and he was bad at it too.

 

But so far, everything sounded positive. Harry lingered on that thought and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. He took another sip of the wine. For something so expensive, it tasted awfully like every other wine he had tasted; he’d thought the same thing when he’d once gone wine tasting with Lucas. He could only taste the differences in the white and red, but not multiple selections of white and red.

 

Draco came in and turned around and said goodbye to his parents. There was a brief passing of “I love you” before he closed the door and turned around, facing Harry and giving him a small smile.

 

“They like you,” Draco said, “weirdly enough, without the war and everything they don’t actually want to kill you, or want you to die.”

 

Harry laughed sardonically, “I guess that’s a relief.”

 

Draco sighed heavily and took off his tie, then his jacket, then his shirt.

 

“I want to fuck.”

 

Harry smiled, that was the best thing he’d heard all evening, “and you say I’m insatiable.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry moaned enthusiastically and buried a hand in Draco’s silky blonde hair, as he felt the blonde’s lips slide up and down his hard member, a mixture of saliva and pre-come shining on his chin.

 

While Draco did this, he prepared Harry quickly, he fingered Harry with three fingers, making Harry’s back arch of the bed in pleasure.

 

“Come on,” Harry groaned, panting wantonly, “just fuck me already...”

 

Draco slid Harry’s throbbing erection out of his mouth and smirked at Harry, “you’ve been waiting for this all day, haven’t you Potter?” he asked in a soft whisper.

 

Harry didn’t deny it; he just nodded and urged Draco to hurry up with his eyes.

 

“Wait a second,” Draco said, smirk still on his face as he got up and went over to Harry’s wardrobe. He grabbed the bag that held Harry’s suit and opened it, taking out the white tie and letting the silk slip across his finger tips. He walked back out, holding the tie tightly in his grip.

 

“What are you doing?” Harry asked. Draco was surprised to see no look of shock, or horror, or anything resembling that; only mere curiosity.

 

Draco got back on the bed, and without saying a word grabbed both of Harry’s wrists and wrapped the tie around them before slipping part of the tie through a hole on the bed head, and tying Harry there. He grinned down at Harry as he marvelled at the sight, “when I _marry_ you, you can look down at your tie and remember how I tied you up with it and _fucked_ your perfect, tight, pretty little ass into the mattress.”

 

Harry had never been one for dirty talk, but holy shit was this _hot_.

 

He felt the head of Draco’s cock resting against his opening before he pushed it through the stretched muscle, sinking right through until the curve of his arse was at the base. He moaned, pulling at the white silk tie keeping his wrists together. He liked being tied up, he knew that much, but he really wished he could fist his hands into Draco’s hair as he was fucked.

 

Draco pulled back slowly and then slammed back into him, how he knew Harry liked it. Harry hissed and arched his back, his hands twitching where they were confined together.

 

Quickly, Draco built up pace, thrusting into Harry and grunting as he did so; Harry panting harshly underneath him, his mouth agape in pleasure; his toes curling as Draco hit his sweet spot over and over.

 

When Draco began to feel his orgasm nearing, he grabbed at Harry’s cock and began stroking it quickly; he always liked to make whoever he was screwing come first; it was his one and only rule with sex. He continued to thrust, and was on the brink of his orgasm when Harry came, calling out Draco’s name.

 

Draco came shortly after that, hearing Harry scream his name being the thing that finally pushed him to the edge. As he groaned loudly, spilling his seed into Harry, he heard Harry faintly speak.

 

“I love you.”

 

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Draco lay beside Harry, breathing heavily.

 

Has he heard him wrong? Surely he’d heard him wrong. There was no way in hell that Harry had said that to him.

 

But could there be a chance?

 

Draco didn’t know whether or not he wanted it to be true. He was more leaning towards wanting it to be true than not so. But Draco tried, and somewhat successfully, convinced himself that he only wanted Harry to love him for selfish reasons.

 

 _Harry Potter, in love with me, that’d be brilliant_ , Draco thought to himself, _I mean, I can’t blame him. I’m very desirable_.

 

Draco rolled his eyes; he didn’t even believe himself anymore. He’d changed. The past month and a half with Harry had permanently changed him from...cocky party boy trying to get rid of the memories of the one ex he’d fallen in love with to someone...he didn’t even know who he was anymore.

 

He didn’t know whether or not that scared him.

 

“You heard me, didn’t you?”

 

It wasn’t a question; Draco turned to look at Harry who was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, his eyes brimming with tears. Draco was almost tempted to lie to him; tell the dark haired man he had no idea what he was talking about. But he couldn’t bring himself to.

 

“Yes,” Draco murmured, “but its okay-.”

 

“It’s not okay,” Harry snapped; his voice suddenly loud again, “this was not how I wanted things to go.”

 

Draco frowned, “what do you mean?” he asked.

 

Harry sighed, “we were supposed to get married, stay together for six months so you and your parents can stay in the _fucking_ UK and then we get a divorce and go our separate ways,” Harry said, his voice cracking slightly, “but no, you go and get me a job at fucking Witch Weekly all because I found a sudden interest in journalism and then I say I love you after sex,” he frowned, “I thought there was a rule to never listen to one’s delusions within the first five minutes after orgasm.”

 

“Well that delusion was pretty extreme,” Draco said, “I can’t just ignore it.”

 

“Well I wish you would,” Harry said, getting out of bed slowly and grabbing his clothes off the floor.

 

“Where are you going?” Draco asked, watching Harry put his clothes on, for once not gazing at his naked body whilst he did so.

 

“Out,” Harry snapped, leaving the bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him. Draco sighed and heard the lounge room door slam shut as well, indicating that Harry had left the apartment building.

 

Draco lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering whether him staying in the country was really worth all of this mess; all of this emotional bullshit.

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really hard to write, so, I'm sorry it took a while.

Benefits

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

 

 

Draco hadn’t been able to find Harry the night before, he had walked around to all the open stores and pubs and nobody had seen him. He had gone back to Harry’s apartment, and fallen into a fitful sleep on the couch.

 

When he woke up, Harry was making himself coffee in the kitchen.

 

Relief flooded through him as he slowly got off the couch and walked over to him, “are you alright?” he asked; wrapping an arm around Harry, realising that it might seem somewhat provocative.

 

Harry simply nodded and pushed Draco’s arm away.

 

“Look, I think-.”

 

“I’m fine,” Harry said, turning to look at the blonde. Harry gave him a small smile, “I promise, I’m perfectly fine; a little hung over, but other than that...” Harry shrugged, “you’re not ‘in trouble’ or anything; I overreacted, okay?”

 

Harry walked over to the lounge and sat down, looking at the latest copy of the Daily Prophet, “admittedly, the articles in here are much crappier now that you’ve left,” he said, “minus Blaise; he actually seems funny in his writings.”

 

“Blaise is very funny,” Draco said, tightly, wondering what Harry was playing at, “but that’s not the point-.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it Draco,” Harry muttered, taking a sip of his coffee, “so just drop it please.”

 

Draco sighed in defeat, but he wasn’t letting the discussion go permanently.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Ron dropped by later, asking how Harry was and explained what had happened last night.

 

“He ended up on mine and Hermione’s doorstep, completely drunk, complaining about stories and you and Lucas,” Ron said, “it was all rather mixed up; I couldn’t understand what he was bloody on about.”

 

“What about Lucas?” Draco asked, frowning.

 

“Something about sleeping with him,” Ron shrugged, “probably talking about past experiences and stuff. He was drunk after all,” he said, giving Draco a small worried look.

 

“Right...” Draco sighed, “Harry’s fine, by the way.”

 

Ron nodded, “what time did he get home?” he asked.

 

Draco shrugged, “no idea, I must have been asleep when he arrived.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

After convincing Ron that Harry was definitely fine and that he was in sleep in his bed without a worry in the world, Draco walked into Harry’s room to confront him. He was lying in bed, reading one of his journalism books with multiple pieces of written on parchment sitting in front of him.

 

“What happened between you and Lucas?” Draco asked, standing in the doorway watching Harry shuffle through sheets of parchment, stacking them up neatly every now and then.

 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked. But something in his eyes gave him away.

 

“You slept with him.”

 

Harry sighed and closed the book in front of him and put both the book and pile of parchment on the bedside table, “he found me outside of a pub last night, drunk and struggling to walk and so he took me back to his place.”

 

“Without your consent-?”

 

“ _With_ my consent.”

 

“You were drunk,” Draco said, “it doesn’t count.”

 

Harry glared at Draco with such ferocity, he almost flinched, “it counts,” Harry said darkly, “I don’t regret it so I don’t care; it counts.”

 

Draco didn’t know what to do with that information. Had saying ‘I love you’ accidentally after orgasm and then not showing any reciprocation of the sort really lead to all of this? A drunken night in the town and a one night stand.

 

“Did anybody see you?”

 

“Why’s that matter?” Harry asked, “Why the hell is that even important, it’s none of anyone’s business about my love life-.”

 

“We’re supposed to be _engaged_ you idiotic fuck!”

 

Harry froze and looked up at Draco, “oh fuck,” he murmured, lying back on the bed, “fuck I’m sorry.”

 

Draco wanted to scream at the man, tell him that one apology didn’t mean he’d automatically forgive him and he couldn’t keep going about his business without any sort of guilt on mind.

 

But Draco spared a moment to wonder why he was so affected by this. He felt like he was freaking out a little too much for someone who was simply using Harry to stay in the country. He shook his head; he didn’t want to think about things like that too much, it would only screw him over in the long run.

 

He sighed strangely and sat down next to Harry on the bed, “its fine,” he said, “don’t worry about it.”

 

Harry didn’t reply. When Draco looked at him closely, the other man was crying, “Harry, what?”

 

“Don’t,” Harry muttered. He got under the duvet and buried his head under the covers like Draco had done not too long ago, “just don’t. Leave me alone.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

 

**Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter Love Story: A SHAM! Pg. 3**

**Barnabas Cuffe No Longer Editor of the Daily Prophet: Illegal surveillance placed on workers. Pg. 6**

**Pg.3**

**Illegal surveillance set up by Daily Prophet Editor, Barnabas Cuffe, upturned evidence that the Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter love story is a complete sham. The man himself was fired due to his inappropriate and non-ministry approved surveillance magic, being used on workers in the Daily Prophet, he was also charged a fee of five hundred galleons.**

**But before getting fired from his job, he decided to take Draco Malfoy down with him. The man said that on one of the surveillance tapes, Draco Malfoy admitted to being worried Barnabas would discover that his relationship with Harry Potter is complete ‘bullsh*t.’**

**The surveillance recordings have all been confiscated and deleted from the archives, a ministry worker informed us, due to the fact that the surveillance was illegally set up. Workers at the ministry had nothing more to say about the matter and promptly made all the reporters on the scene to leave.**

**More on pg.5**

**Picture of Harry and Draco on pg. 4**

Draco cursed to himself silently. He should have known that Barnabas would pull off something like this. Barnabas was a dangerous type of man and would do anything to ruin someone who betrayed him, or he would do anything for a scandalous scoop; that much had been obvious when he had that article about Harry and him being engaged on the front page of the Daily Prophet, for no one to miss or ignore.

 

He got up from his seat at the cafe table and placed the newspaper in his bag. He’d started working at Witch Weekly; it was only his second day and he was already stressed. He’d been writing a piece on him and Harry like the boss had asked; which Draco felt weird about. But he hoped that his article was believable enough to contradict the piece on the Daily Prophet.

 

He looked down at the name of the writer; Bailey Kingston; typical.

 

He began walking back to work when an idea struck him.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

After work he went straight to the Daily Prophet, using his old pass to get into the building without any difficulties. He went onto his old work floor and there was Kingston, sat at his desk, a quill in his hand and stacks of parchment sitting in front of him. He looked stressed; perfect.

 

Draco walked towards him, and tapped him lightly on the shoulder making the man jump.

 

Kingston turned around and when he noticed Draco fear showed in his eyes, “D-Draco Malfoy?”

 

Draco smiled not unkindly, “indeed,” he pulled up a chair from Blaise’s desk, and noticed that a different name was sitting there. He smiled; he guessed Blaise had officially left his job.

 

“I have a proposition,” Draco said, “I’m sure you’ll see it as a beacon of light in your dark life.”

 

Kingston looked at him, listening.

 

“As you know, I have a lot of money,” Draco said, “and you...not so much.”

 

Kingston sat up straighter.

 

“I’m willing to pay you a reasonable fee; if you discontinue writing articles about me and Harry,” Draco said, “I know how little you get paid, that you’ve been working here for five years without a single promotion. I’m willing to help you out a little, as long as you help me.”

 

“But,” Kingston frowned, “I don’t need to write those articles anymore; besides, I got a raise and a promotion.”

 

“Did your boss specifically say that?” Draco asked.

 

Kingston nodded his head.

 

“Then don’t worry about it,” Draco said, “besides, who is the new boss?” he asked.

 

Kingston pointed towards the office, “he’s in there if you want to talk to him,” was his answer, which confused Draco slightly, but he nodded nonetheless and got up, heading towards Barnabas’s old office.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

The panel of glass in the door still read Editor: Barnabas Cuffe. But Draco was sure they were in the process of changing it; the man had only been fired not too long ago. He knocked on the door lightly, and it opened on its own accord. He walked in tentatively, then felt his smile widen.

 

“Blaise!”

 

Blaise grinned at him, “after you left I was next in line to be Editor,” he said, “no offense, but I’m glad you left.”

 

“None taken,” Draco said with a smile, “but I assume I have a guaranteed job if stuff goes bad with Witch Weekly.”

 

“Naturally,” Blaise said. His name sign from his old desk was sitting on Barnabas’s desk; Barnabas’s sign was in the trash amongst sheets of paper. This just made Draco happier.

 

He sat down in the chair opposite to Blaise’s, he couldn’t stop smiling, “so what changes do you think you’re going to make?” he asked.

 

“Well,” Blaise shrugged, “I want to get some of those magically run computers that Witch Weekly has; writing on parchment all the time really kills your wrist; though I doubt Barnabas ever felt that pain. He had an assistant for literally everything.”

 

“What are you going to do with the assistants?” Draco asked, “They need jobs.”

 

“I’m hiring them as writers,” Blaise said, “if they’re not good enough then I’ll bring in a journalism tutor.”

 

Draco nodded, impressed, “and the pay?”

 

Blaise scrunched up his face a little, “it might stay the same for a while, maybe even decrease a little; but I’m hoping to get a rise in subscribers.”

 

“How?”

 

Blaise smirked, “I’ve asked Witch Weekly to combine forces with me and they were more than happy to,” he said, “now with every copy of the Daily Prophet, there will be the latest copy of Witch Weekly inside. They’ll only be paying a sickle extra for it as well,” he said.

 

“But, what’s their benefit from it?” Draco asked, “They’ll be losing money.”

 

“I’ve give them about half the earnings of course,” Blaise said, “I’m just that confident the idea will work. They won’t be losing any money, might even be getting more of it.”

 

“You’re already a better Editor than Barnabas,” Draco said, “and you haven’t even started yet.”

 

Blaise laughed, “It’s not exactly hard, is it?”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Draco got back to Harry’s, which he had several times caught himself calling ‘home’ in his mind, after a long conversation with Blaise about the man’s new ideas for the Daily Prophet. It felt like nothing could go wrong. The surveillance had been deleted so nobody had seen it; only Barnabas; and the man was deranged. Who would really believe him?

 

He got his answer when he opened the apartment door.

 

Ron and Hermione were sitting on the couch while Harry was standing up, looking pissed.

 

“Malfoy,” Ron said, nodding his head. Already, Draco felt all the progress had changed just by the return of his first name.

 

“What’s going on?” he asked.

 

“We saw the article in the Daily Prophet,” Hermione said, looking irritable, “we wanted to know whether or not it’s true.”

 

“Harry says it isn’t,” Ron said, “that it’s just the Daily Prophet trying to think up another juicy story, but seeing as you _work_ there-.”

 

“I don’t work there anymore,” Draco said, “I work at a magazine now.”

 

Ron rolled his eyes, “and you’re also known for your brutal honesty.”

 

Draco didn’t know what to say to that. Brutal honesty; the irony was he’d been lying for most of his life.

 

“Well then you’ll believe me when I tell you I love Harry dearly,” Draco said, his voice calm, “and that if I don’t marry him, I might go insane,” he looked at Harry who was standing there, looking just as calm as he did, but when Draco looked down, Harry was tapping his foot nervously, like Draco always did, “this is the man I love,” he said, looking at both Ron and Hermione in turn, “and I understand that you want to protect him from getting his heart broken, or something cliché like that; but that isn’t my intention,” Draco looked quickly at Harry again, “I know you think I’m cruel, but you will be the cruel one’s if you try to take Harry away from me.”

 

The two of them looked over at Draco, shocked. Draco refused to look over at Harry; he didn’t know what he’d see there. Shock? Disgust? Incredulousness?

 

As Ron and Hermione got up, both hugged Harry, apologised and walked out the door, presumably to go back home; all Draco knew was that he wasn’t sure whether or not he’d been lying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

****

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I took a bit of a break over the weekend. I've been spending most of the time watching Drake and Josh. I have no regrets. I've finished seasons 1, 2 and 3 and I am currently on the last season. Oh geez.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway; a friend of mine has asked me to start writing him a Destiel fanfiction, so I'm going to start writing this while I continue this WIP. I hope you guys don't mind.

Benefits

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

 

 

“Was any of that honest?” Harry asked, looking down at his lap, pointedly refusing to look at Draco. Draco looked up when Harry spoke and cocked an elegant eyebrow.

 

“What?”

 

“Was any of that rant to Ron and Hermione honest?” they were still standing in the lounge room after the confrontation from the angry red haired and a bushy haired couple. Draco had to pay it to them, he didn’t think the two would have the guts to do what they did, but he had been proved wrong. Though, Draco shouldn’t have expected any less; they’d been Gryffindors at Hogwarts after all. Though, he’d always personally believed that Hermione belonged in Ravenclaw and Ron in Hufflepuff.

 

Draco shrugged, unsure of how to answer. He didn’t even know if any of it had been honest.

 

“I may have exaggerated some of my positive thoughts about you,” Draco said casually, his voice seeming an octave higher than usual, “but I do genuinely like you...,” Draco sighed, “as a friend,” he hastily added, “I don’t despise you anymore.”

 

“Alright,” Harry said, heading into the kitchen and grabbing his keys to the apartment.

 

“Where are you going?” Draco asked, sounding a little worried.

 

“Out,” Harry said, in the same tone he had the other night when he had said ‘the thing’, “why do you need to know?” he asked, “it’s not like you genuinely like me or love me or anything. It’s personally none of your business what I do-.”

 

“It is if you start sleeping around and you get caught,” Draco said, “How the actual fuck, do you explain that to the press?”

 

“Maybe we have an open relationship!” Harry exclaimed; the keys clinking in his hand loudly as he threw his arms open exasperatedly, “look; I’m going. I’ll see you later.”

 

He turned around and opened the apartment door before closing it behind him. Draco was relieved that he didn’t slam it this time, but Harry may as well have. He still felt like he’d done something wrong.

 

“Maybe it wasn’t just a post orgasm thing,” Draco muttered to himself, “fuck.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Harry sat out of the hall way the whole time. He’d wanted to go to a bar, or a pub, or something. Get drunk out of his mind and come home later. But he couldn’t bring himself to. So he sat beside the doorway, fiddling with his keys and focusing on his breathing, trying to calm down.

 

He could hear murmured conversation from inside. Either Draco was talking to himself or he was writing a letter to someone and reading it out loud. If it was a letter, it would probably be to Blaise or his parents.

 

He wanted to back in there, admit to everything. He knew he had feelings for Draco of the romantic kind. He didn’t know whether he could genuinely say he was in love with the blonde; that might have been exaggerating things slightly. But he could easily _see_ himself falling for the blonde man and surely that was enough?

 

He rolled his eyes, he was being pathetic.

 

He heard the door open before he saw it and flinched when Draco crouched down in front of him. It was the same thing Lucas would do before he pulled him up by the ear and started...he didn’t really want to think about it.

 

“Are you okay?” Draco asked, “I heard you playing with your keys.”

 

Harry gazed at the keys and dropped them on the floor, “oops,” he said disheartened, laying his head back onto the crème coloured wall behind him.

 

“Come on,” Draco said, standing up and holding out a hand to help him get up, “we should talk...”

 

“I don’t want to talk,” Harry snapped, “that’s why I left.”

 

Draco smirked, “then why are you still sitting out here.”

 

Harry didn’t have an answer. After a few seconds he reached up his hand and grabbed Draco’s, and Draco pulled him off the apartment buildings ugly red carpeted floor.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

It was in the middle of September and Harry was sitting in a dress store with Hermione who was trying on multiple dresses of different colours.

 

“You made it so hard you know,” Hermione muttered, “picking a white tie, it would have been easier if you’d just picked a colour I could have matched with.”

 

“Wear white?” Harry stated, looking bored.

 

Hermione sighed, “You’re not supposed to wear white at a wedding.”

 

“So why does the bride wear a white dress?” he asked.

 

Hermione froze, gazing at the mirror like she had given up on life, “I mean you’re not supposed to wear white at a wedding...if it’s not _your_ wedding.”

 

“Right,” Harry muttered.

 

She looked at a light lilac dress that was just above the knee and had a darker purple bow in the middle, “that looks like a dress a little girl would wear.”

 

“Then don’t put it on.”

 

“I don’t know what colour to go with,” Hermione muttered, “I feel red is inappropriate for a wedding, so is black because it’d be like going to a funeral, I can’t wear white-.”

 

“Wear blue or green,” Harry said with a groan, “Draco’s tie is green and you look good in blue. If you want to match with someone, match with him.”

 

“I’ll be on your side of the room though,” Hermione said, “I think I’ll wear blue.”

 

Harry smirked.

 

“You set that up didn’t you,” Hermione said.

 

Harry nodded, “you always work better when I give you ultimatums.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed while looking at the dresses in front of her and picking out a blue one, “what?” Harry asked.

 

“You’re becoming more and more like Draco every day.”

 

Harry didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.

 

“I’m going to try on the blue one,” she said, picking a small blue dress, “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

 

Harry waited patiently, looking amongst the other colourful dresses with bored disinterest. There was a tap on his shoulder and he looked up to see Ron, holding take away cups of coffee, “is she driving you insane yet?” he asked, handing Harry a cup.

 

“Nah, she’s behaving,” Harry said with a laugh, “she’s trying on a dress.”

 

Ron beamed, “came here just in time then.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and moved his feet off of the other chair to let Ron sit down.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“So, who’s going to be your best man?” Ron asked, looking at him expectantly.

 

“Me,” Harry said, “like, I’d totally be the best, best man ever-.”

 

“Fuck off,” Ron said, rolling his eyes, “is it me or not?”

 

“The bloke down the street,” Harry said, pointing nowhere in particular, “of course it’s you, you idiot.”

 

Ron beamed, “what’s Hermione going to be?” he asked.

 

“Honorary groomsman,” Harry shrugged, “who cares about the rules, she’s an important part of my life and she’ll be who I want her to be for the night.”

 

“You should totally make her wear a suit.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “she wanted to wear a dress.”

 

Ron laughed, “So you actually told her to wear a suit?” he asked.

 

“Well, jokingly; yes I did.”

 

“You’ve got guts.”

 

Harry shrugged, “I’m marrying Draco; I have to.”

 

Ron laughed, as if it was a joke, but it was true. But it didn’t have to do with just Draco. To fake getting married to anyone was something gutsy, especially seeing as you could get charged, hell maybe even arrested. All because Draco wanted to stay in the country; it was a weird thought knowing how much he would do for someone. How much he was willing to change, maybe even destroy his life, just to make sure someone else got what they wanted. To make sure everyone else was fine; that they got a chance.

 

He’d learned that much after the war, but now, this whole marriage fiasco just threw the fact right back into his face.

 

The fact that even after the wedding and the marriage and every single little thing they had to do to make everything seem convincing, which included going on a goddamn honeymoon, he still had to stay with Draco for six months, maybe seven; Harry didn’t know whether he could handle it.  

 

What was there really to handle? Harry wasn’t sure. He’d dealt with Draco for a while now; it wasn’t that the man was unpleasant.

 

It was feelings. They got in the way of the slight normality he’d had in this deal. At the end of the day, after acting all in love with Draco, with maybe the briefest of sexual encounters, he could always convince himself that at the end of the day, he wasn’t going to be permanently stuck with the man. He was not in love with Draco Malfoy; he had no romantic feelings of the sorts towards him.

 

But now; he wasn’t so sure. He had moments of wanting to just be banged constantly by the man. Other times, it wasn’t fucking he wanted. He wanted to make love and be made love to. He wanted to be with Draco Malfoy and he didn’t want the relationship to be fake, or one of their benefits.

 

He wanted it to all be real, oh so badly.

 

“Harry, Harry!”

 

Harry looked up to see Hermione looking at him worriedly, wearing the blue dress she had picked before and holding a small silver clutch bag, “are you alright?” Hermione asked, looking at him nervously, “you seemed really deep in thought, and then you started breathing oddly.”

 

Harry shook his head and put on a brave smile, “I’m fine.”

 

 _You’re just getting your heart ripped apart in tiny small confetti like pieces; you could throw them at your wedding_ , Harry thought to himself, almost making himself laugh inappropriately, _little red pieces of confetti and if Draco asks where you got it from you can say it’s the heart he literally destroyed worse than Lucas ever did_.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

 

“I feel like going out for dinner tonight,” Draco sprung on him randomly as he walked into the apartment. He’d just gotten home after Hermione tried on dresses, finally picking a baby blue one that clung nicely but, according to her, not inappropriately. Harry had shrugged and said that if she wanted to, she could have worn a clown costume and he wouldn’t have minded. Hermione had muttered something under her breath about being typical.

 

“Why do you suddenly feel like going out for dinner when we’ve been ordering take out for weeks?” Harry asked, sounding a little annoyed.

 

“Because, I fucking feel like it, okay?” Draco asked, laughing a little at Harry’s annoyance, “I thought it’d be fun. It’d be great to get out of here, just talk; friendly banter even.”

 

“What are you up to Malfoy?” Harry asked, surprised that he was back to using Draco’s last name, like it had never changed.

 

“Nothing,” Draco said, not seeming to notice the name change, “innocent dinner at a nice restaurant, I promise.”

 

“How nice are we talking?” Harry asked suspiciously.

 

Draco smirked, “I’d suggest getting out your best suit.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry felt like his best suit wasn’t even his best when he walked into the ridiculously fancy restaurant Draco had chosen. There was a massive chandelier in the middle of the room, lighting up the whole room and most of the road outside of it, the carpet was a deep, blood red, the bottom half of the walls were a lighter red and the rest of the rooms upper walls were crème coloured.

 

There were tables everywhere, covers in expensive looking white table cloths; they all almost looked like silk. There were candles at every table and silverware shining softly and reflecting the light off of the chandelier. The chair cushions, like the table cloths, were white and looked perfectly comfortable. Well, no one eating seemed to be experiencing any discomfort.

 

“This place is amazing,” Harry said, as he was lead slowly towards his and Draco’s table, “but how could you possibly afford it?” he asked, “you got all of your money taken away from you, from the ministry.”

 

Draco smirked, “the ministry gave mine and my parent’s money back this afternoon; we’re here to celebrate and just...talk.”

 

Harry frowned, “about what,” he asked, being lead over to a singular table in a private room.

 

“About anything,” Draco said, “your likes, dislikes, hobbies; whatever. Have fun tonight; you deserve it.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

They had talked about many things. Most of them, things they hadn’t known about one another. Dinner had been amazing; everything had been cooked to perfection and the deserts just right. Not too sweet, not too savoury.

 

They’d gone home and Draco had ravished him. Pulled off all of his clothes one by one, whilst pulling off his own; he’d thrown Harry on the bed, pegged him down and fucked him from behind; his wrists tied again by the white tie he was supposed to wear on his wedding day.

 

He now, was lying in bed, tiredly, smiling up at the ceiling feeling like he was on a rollercoaster that could only go up.

 

“I hope you enjoyed tonight,” Draco murmured from beside him tiredly, the lamp on his side of the room was off already, he’d curled up into a ball almost as soon as the energy after orgasming had died down.

 

“I did,” Harry murmured back, turning off his lamp and turning to look at Draco.

 

Harry pushed the covers aside and covered Draco’s mouth with his own, catching the blonde’s look of surprise before his eyelids slid down and he moaned deeply in pleasure. He felt his hand move up subconsciously to Draco’s hair and tug at the silky blonde strands before he let go and looked into Draco’s eyes.

 

Shining grey eyes fell in love with sparkling green.

 

 

Sparkling green fell in love with shining grey.

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ey, so, this chapter was hard to write because I can feel the writers block slowly creeping up on me. But hopefully I'll be able to beat it. Yay!
> 
> Anyways, remember to show appreciation and stuff.

Benefits

 

                    

Chapter Fourteen – The Wedding

 

 

 

Harry was nervously sweating, lying in bed and trying to calm his racing heart. Today was the day. He was getting married today. A fake wedding; but it was still scary and nerve wrecking and he was almost tempted to contact Draco and tell him the deal was off. But he was too invested now. This was it. What they’d been waiting for the whole time to happen. The wedding; otherwise known as the thing that would just be the next stage of the deal and after that they had to stay married for another six months. But time was going fast; faster than Harry wanted to. So before Harry knew it, he would be divorcing Draco and the two would go their separate ways.

 

Then Harry remembered he was due to start work at Witch Weekly next week. He’d see Draco basically everyday because of their jobs.

 

But what if Draco just went back to the Daily Prophet now that Blaise was the editor? He couldn’t just follow Draco to the Daily Prophet. Draco would know that Harry was stalking him, just to see him every day; to feel like every little thing that had happened, had in fact been real.

 

He was thinking too far forward. He needed to focus on today and he needed to keep his cool. There were going to be more men than Draco; more important, more loveable men.

 

But none of them were Draco.

 

Harry rolled his eyes, he was being pathetic. He growled, frustrated, and crawled out of bed. His suit was hanging on his walk-in wardrobe door and he gazed at the white tie. He felt his face heat up, remembering the amount of times he’d been tied up with it, and fucking hard and fast. He could feel himself harder and he mentally cursed Draco Malfoy and his disgustingly kinky mind. Now was not the time to get a boner.

 

He got up and headed for the shower, planning to make it cold.

 

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Draco peered at himself in the mirror, adjusting his tie continuously. He flattened his hair every ten seconds and straightened his coat.

 

“You seem nervous, for a fake wedding.”

 

Pansy was standing behind him, surveying his actions from behind and smiling at him with a look...Draco didn’t even want to know what it meant.

 

“You seem to be gaining weight Pansy,” Draco muttered, “might want to cut back on the food or you won’t be able to fit through the front door.”

 

Pansy glared at him, “I’m pregnant Draco,” she said through gritted teeth, “besides; it’s only been a month. I’m not even showing.”

 

“Then you’re just fat.”

 

“Draco!”

 

“Draco, leave Pansy alone; just because you’re nervous about fake marrying Harry Potter.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes, “do we need to keep saying it like that?”

 

“Why?” Blaise asked, smirking, “do you want to really marry Harry Potter?” he asked.

 

Draco shook his head, walking towards the couch and sitting down before putting on his shiny, black shoes, “no,” he said, “but our act is supposed to be so convincing, I like to believe I’ve also fooled you two,” he said, “Which admittedly wouldn’t be hard to do.”

 

He heard Blaise sigh and he looked up, seeing the last of Blaise walk out of the room.

 

“What?” Draco asked, frowning at Pansy, “he knows I’m joking, right?”

 

Pansy nodded, “of course he does, he’s not stupid,” she said, “but she’s sick of you being stubborn and not admitting your blatantly obvious feelings for Harry.”

 

Draco snorted, “Feelings, for Harry Potter? Piss in some other wizard’s shoe.”

 

Pansy rolled her eyes, “honey, you have such strong feelings for him, your love for each other is sappier than every romantic movie I’ve ever watched; combined, and I have watched a lot of romantic movies.”

 

Draco threw a pillow at her.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

DRACO’S POV

 

 

 

I have to admit to myself that I am incredibly nervous. I am going to be marrying Harry Potter; Harry fucking Potter, of all people. I have never been married before; almost twice. Once with a girl named Astoria Greengrass, which was an arranged marriage that my parents and her parents forced us into. The only reason I got out of it, is because I told my parents I was gay ON THE WEDDING DAY. Astoria was in her dress; she was an absolute eyesore if I be honest with myself, I said she looked nice but, the dress wasn’t flattering on her. It was loose and tight in all the wrong places.

 

The other time was with Lucas. He’d proposed to me a few days before I found him cheating on me. It was embarrassing but it felt great throwing the engagement ring right into his traitorous face.

 

I’ve forgiven Harry for being the dark haired tramp that had ruined my potential marriage. He didn’t know until it was too late. Also; now he’s my dark haired tramp.

 

I hiss, aloud.

 

No. He’s not mine. It’s all just a scam to keep me in the country.

 

If only I’d found out about Lucas after I’d married, and stayed with him for a few months. I wouldn’t have had to go through all of this drama and I would have at least gotten married to someone I genuinely loved.

 

With Harry...I’m still confused.

 

I want to not be in love with him and when I think like that I think that if I don’t want to be in love with him, then I’m not. Why would I not want to be in love with someone as kind, as honest, as amazing as Harry? But then I remember it’s really not that simple.

 

I’ve lost friends in a war against a creepy snakelike man. I’ve been cheated on by someone I truly loved. I’ve been fired from jobs all because of my past; and yet, marrying Harry Potter and knowing that I have to divorce him after six months, maybe seven months later has given me a type of pain I never thought possible to feel.

 

I thought the aching heart destroying pain that I was feeling was just me being melodramatic. That it was something that only happened in the books I’ve read and the very few movies I have watched. But it’s real. It’s not a plotline in your favourite book. It’s a real pain; and I have never hated something so much.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

HARRY’S POV

 

 

 

 

I get out of my cold shower and I’m standing naked in front of my bed and staring at the suit that has both been a burden and a thing to pinpoint my excitement for the last few weeks. To think that I’m wearing it today, to marry someone, hasn’t completely hit me yet. The fact that I’m wearing it to _fake_ marry someone hasn’t hit me yet.

 

I don’t know how to feel about fake marrying someone. Should I be excited and nervous about it? Or, should I be feeling careless, because it’s nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s all a bunch of lies to keep someone in the country and to let him live his life somewhere, where he is comfortable; which is what he deserves after everything he has gone through.

 

I’ve never said that, or thought that, he deserved to live and be happy. But he does. That’s why I’ve been here for so long; surely.

 

 _Yes, just keep lying to yourself_ , I think to myself, _that’s just going to make everything a million times better._

The worst thing; is probably knowing that I’m lying to myself and trying to think of pathetic excuses to explain everything still. I’m not doing anything about my obvious feelings for the man. I don’t think I could say I love Draco. But I definitely want him to be mine, I want to be with him, I want to really marry him and have everyone know I am in fact married to Draco Malfoy, past Death Eater; so be it.

 

But then, if that isn’t some odd mental confession of love, then I don’t know what is.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

 

Harry didn’t understand how people could get one time, let alone several. He checked his arm pits every ten minutes just to make sure he wasn’t sweating. He wasn’t, but it definitely felt like it. He had never felt so irritated, as he heard people talking outside, sitting in their seats in a large room that had a glass ceiling, making everything incredibly bright. He wished it could have been dark. With his reasonably dark suit and dark hair, he could have just gotten married while camouflaged in the darkness .But no, that wasn’t an option.

 

Well lit room and crowded room it was.

 

Draco was standing out there, Blaise being his best man and some other old Slytherin’s being the groomsmen. Ron was out, standing there, his best man. Hermione one of his honorary groomsmen, because fuck rules. He had invited Seamus and Neville to be his other two groomsmen.

 

He felt bad, inviting Hagrid to walk him down the aisle, especially to a fake wedding. But, Hagrid probably would have been offended if he hadn’t been invited. Plus, if this were a real wedding, Harry would have made Hagrid walk him down the aisle without hesitation.

 

The music began to play. Harry screwed up his eyes and waited for the door to open.

 

“Are yer nervous’ ‘Arry?”Hagrid asked, beaming down at him.

 

“A little,” Harry managed to say, just as the doors opened in front of him. He and Hagrid slowly walked down and Harry to wonder whether he could just leave. Leave Draco there. Leave it all behind. Maybe he should move to another country, change his name and constantly change his face with random glamour charms.

 

And then he was at the altar.

 

Standing in front of Draco, who was smiling at him in a way that made everything feel okay again; so he sucked in a deep breath and counted to ten when the minister began to speak.

 

“We are here today...”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“I do.”

 

“I do.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

The feel of the gold band around his finger felt heavy and unnatural. He flexed his hand against his thigh, fidgeted with the ring a couple of times, then sighed deeply and looked out the window.

 

They were supposed to be on their honeymoon, some prestigious hotel in France.

 

Normally, this would be exciting to Harry. He’d want to look around at all the trademarks that made Paris, France the city of romance. But the ring weighed heavily on his finger. It was dragging him down to the point where he couldn’t stand up.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Harry looked up to see Draco standing in front of him, looking genuinely concerned. They were in Paris, with no one to survey them. They could be real about everything now.

 

“I just feel weird,” Harry muttered, “being fake married and all.”

 

“Then don’t picture it like that,” Draco said, “act like it’s a real marriage and then it won’t be weird. Okay?”

 

Draco sounded annoyed as he got into the other side of the bed, his suit still on. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept well the night before. Harry knew how that felt.

 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Harry asked.

 

“Barely,” Draco murmured, “so lemme sleep unless you want to do newlywed sex with me insulted of pre-marital.”

 

Harry shook his head and lay back on his side of the bed. It was nowhere near as comfortable as the one he had back home, but it would do for the next week, “I’m good, thanks,” he mumbled tiredly. When he closed his eyes, all he could see were flashbacks of people happily waving at them as they ran towards their apparation spot. Hagrid’s tears leaking into his beard, Hermione crying just as much and Ron laughing at her emotional state. He felt like he had betrayed all of them.

 

“You feel bad, don’t you,” Draco asked, sounding like he’d just been on the verge of falling asleep.

 

“Of course I feel bad,” Harry retorted, “I just betrayed a lot of people.”

 

Draco shrugged, “did you realise that Barnabas Cuffe was in the seats though?” he asked.

 

Harry frowned, “what?” he muttered, “No, of course not, I was shitting myself as I walked down the altar, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

 

“That would explain the smell,” Draco snorted, “but no, Barnabas was there, and you should have seen his face. He was so...confused, shocked, angry even.”

 

Harry smiled; the fact that Barnabas could have been angry or shocked looking was enough to make Harry feel a little better about the situation. But he still felt partially guilty.

 

“Babe, just go to sleep,” Draco said, yawning loudly.

 

“Did you seriously just call me babe?” Harry asked, sounding incredulous despite his sleepy state.

 

Draco smirked, “I’m trying to stay in character,” he murmured, before falling asleep.

 

Harry fell asleep not long after him, thinking of how nice the wedding had been and not focusing on how fake it had been.

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the incredibly short chapter, well, when compared to my other chapter this chapter is about one thousand words short. But I promise, the last chapter and the epilogue will be worth your time. I will start writing it now and we'll see how far I get. I'll be cleaning my room for most of the afternoon, so, sorry it won't be uploaded too early. Either way, just wait and see.

Benefits

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

 

 

The six months after their wedding had been both a blessing and a curse. They seemed to fight a lot more than usual over domestic things that a real couple would fight about. Harry thought, with a fake relationship such as this, you wouldn’t have to deal with such petty arguments; but he had assumed wrong.

 

The sex was no longer fun and not as often. They went out in public as often as they could and they both had work. Draco hadn’t returned to the Daily Prophet, despite the fact that Blaise was now the editor. Harry didn’t ask him why; though he did constantly wonder. He would have been treated more fairly and probably would have gotten paid better if he’d returned to his job at the Daily Prophet, but he continued to stay at Witch Weekly.

 

Harry worked from home, due to the fact that he didn’t like being constantly swarmed with other magazine and newspaper photographers constantly every time he went to work. It was nice, being able to have lunch breaks whenever he wanted and having a break from moody Draco.

 

“You know, working from home has made you miss a lot,” Draco muttered.

 

Harry shrugged, “then what have a missed?” he asked, “surely nothing interesting.”

 

Draco smirked, holding his mug of coffee in his hands and holding the latest coffee of Witch Weekly, proudly. Draco’s article was within the first few pages, so at the moment he was pretty smug about it.

 

“The Daily Prophet, and Blaise himself, has earned enough money from their new high ratings that...Blaise bought out Witch Weekly,” Draco said, “Witch Weekly workers will now be specifically working for the Daily Prophet.”

 

Harry’s eyes almost popped out of his head, “what?”

 

“You heard me,” Draco said, continuing to look smug.

 

“So...those that mean there will be no more Witch Weekly?” he asked.

 

“No,” Draco said, “what’s going to happen is that, no longer with Witch Weekly going to be a separate business. Whatever money Witch Weekly makes, will now go strictly to the Daily Prophet, and workers for Witch Weekly will be paid a decent sum of that money while still leaving enough money for extra printing,” Draco shrugged, “it’s honestly, really hard to explain. But eventually, everyone wants to try and turn The Daily Prophet into a magazine. I don’t like the idea personally, but it might be less difficult to carry around if they do it.”

 

Harry looked at him, “really?” he asked, sounding bemused, “you’re worried about the difficulty of carrying around a newspaper?”

 

Draco shrugged, “well I find it difficult; why wouldn’t other people?”

 

Harry didn’t answer that. He had a million horrible responses running through his head though.

 

“In the end, Blaise is taking over and making changes,” Draco said, “which I think is great.”

 

“Plus the fact that he’s filthy rich now,” Harry muttered, “and that he’s going to be a father soon.”

 

“Why do you sound so angry at him?” Draco asked, “Are you jealous?” he asked.

 

Harry got up, putting his mug of coffee in the sink and making his way towards his room, leaving all his papers behind, “why would I be jealous?” Harry asked, walking away, “I’m already filthy rich!”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Draco and Harry sat silently in the lounge room.

 

“It’s seven months today,” Draco muttered, “I think tomorrow we should go to the ministry and just get it over and done with.”

 

Harry nodded silently.

 

“What?” Draco asked, turning to look at Harry.

 

“I didn’t say anything.”

 

“Alright”

 

They continued to sit in awkward silence, both looking at the sheet of paper in front of them. Divorce papers; they just needed to hang them in tomorrow and they would be officially divorced and they could go their separate ways. Minus the fact that they would be working at the same building, but hopefully Blaise wouldn’t make them work together any time soon.

 

Harry stared at the paper and didn’t know how to absorb it all. It was weird, being married for such a little time and just ending it. Even though it wasn’t a real relationship; he felt like he’d failed. He didn’t know whether that was a normal feeling or not, but was leaning more towards ‘not’. He knew he had strong feelings for Draco Malfoy and he knew they weren’t negative.

 

He just didn’t know if Draco felt the same way.

 

“Do you want coffee?” Draco asked, standing up and walking towards the kitchen. Harry felt it was just an excuse to get out of the uncomfortable silence that had filled the room; Harry couldn’t really blame him for wanting to get away from it all.

 

“Sure,” Harry muttered, looking down at his hands that were sitting on his knees, after he’d rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“Are you sure you want to get a divorce?” the man in front of them asked. He wore a suit, like a muggle, and actually pulled it off well without looking like a complete moron. He looked at them, slightly concerned about the fact that they were handing in divorce papers. He looked more concerned than Harry thought was supposed to be professional.

 

“We’re sure,” Draco said, “we’re just not right for each other.”

 

_Liar_

 

Draco rolled his eyes at himself, hoping that Harry didn’t notice and think it was at him.

 

“Mr Potter-Malfoy, what about you?” he asked, concern still showing on his face.

 

Harry simply nodded. His throat felt tight and if he opened his mouth he was sure he would throw up all over himself, the ministry worker and Draco.

 

“Alright,” the man muttered. He waved his wand and something appeared on the paper, almost a stamp looking like thing. Harry and Draco’s rings disappeared off of their fingers in gold smoke and eventually dissolved completely.

 

“Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter,” the man said, sounding and looking professional once more, “I declare the two of you, divorced.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Harry and Draco stood outside the ministry of magic. Draco had already packed all of his things, shrunk them and put them into his pockets.

 

“I guess I’ll see you at work,” Draco muttered awkwardly.

 

Harry nodded. He still couldn’t talk. He didn’t know what to do, did he hug Draco? Wave awkwardly? Ignore him after the man walked away? He was lost.

 

Draco began to walk away, and Harry wanted to do something. Tackle him to the ground and pin him down so he couldn’t get up and just walk away like nothing had ever happened. But he let him go and he started to walk home.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while, I had to finish a book for English then write a creative and a rationale for them and I'm still reading the other book I have to read for my other English class, plus life has been a little hectic, but now I give you the last chapter of this fanfic before the epilogue, and it's a long one to make up for the fact that the last chapter was only 1,000+ words long, rather than the usual 2,000+ words long.

Benefits

 

 

Chapter Sixteen

 

 

“So...you’re with Lucas again,” Ron asked, looking at him as if his skin had just turned purple. Though, if Ron could see Harry’s ribs he would notice that his skin was some form of purple.

 

“Yes,” Harry muttered, mixing his food around with his fork, almost moodily. He just wasn’t hungry. He hadn’t eaten in a while.

 

“Why?” Hermione asked, “You told us he cheated on you.”

 

Harry nodded, “well...I decided to forgive him, okay?”

 

Hermione shook her head. She had been the first one to hear about Harry and Lucas’s relationship. She hadn’t been happy about it back then either. They’d been dating for about two months now. Harry had been attacked two days ago.

 

“I think you were better off with Draco, to be honest,” Hermione said. Harry felt a twang of pain go through his body and it wasn’t from his recently abused ribs either. He looked up, looking a cross between confused, and hurt.

 

“Despite the fact that the whole relationship was actually _a lie_ ,” Ron muttered, looking down at his plate.

 

They were at that place again, where they had been when Hermione had said that he needed someone. He still felt like he needed someone, despite the fact that he was currently with Lucas. He needed someone that wasn’t Lucas. Lucas wasn’t for him anymore; he doubted Lucas had been for him the first time around.

 

“Ron,” Hermione growled out, making Ron flinch slightly. He mumbled an apology, but Harry didn’t say whether he forgave him or not.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“Draco, you need to get out of bed,” Blaise was standing above him, looking irritable, “you have to go to work, live your life Malfoy.”

 

Draco groaned and turned over while half asleep.

 

He felt a pair of hands wrap around his ankle and suddenly he was being dragged out of bed. He cursed at Blaise, aloud, and tried to get up onto his feet.

 

“Are you going to stop being a total douche bag now?” Blaise asked, “Or are you going to keep this act up?”

 

Draco glared up at him, “just shut up,” he muttered, heading over to his wardrobe and getting out his regular work suit, “you wouldn’t understand.”

 

Blaise rolled his eyes, “the stupidest person in the world would still be able to understand what’s going on. That’s how goddamn obvious you are.”

 

Draco chose to ignore him.

 

“You’re lovesick,” Blaise continued, “You need to get Harry back. You’re absolutely useless without him.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“You know what I mean!” Blaise exclaimed; Draco turned around at that, looking at Blaise with a shocked expression, “how can you possibly be useful when you’re in this condition?” Blaise asked, “you’re moping around, everywhere you go, you’re at risk of getting fired-.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes, “so what?” he asked, “It’s just a job. Now that I have all of my money back, I don’t even _need_ to work.”

 

“But you like working,” Blaise said, “You like being useful, and productive, and having some sort of say in the goddamn media,” Blaise said with a roll of his eyes, “it’s who you are. You can’t change that just because you were a moron and let Harry go.”

 

“I didn’t let Harry go,” Draco muttered, tightening his tie and getting it all wrong again, Blaise rushed over to help but he just slapped the other man’s hands away, “we had a mutual agreement and we followed it.”

 

“Despite the fact that neither of you wanted to.”

 

Draco just sighed and shook his head, giving up on the tie and throwing it onto the floor before buttoning his shirt all the way up and putting his jacket on, “ _I_ didn’t want to,” Draco muttered, “I know that much now.”

 

Blaise stood there, looking shocked, “so you admit it. You have some form of feelings for Harry.”

 

Draco frowned, “when did you start referring to him as Harry and not Potter?” Draco asked, only just having noticed that Blaise had been using the man’s first name instead of his last.

 

Blaise smirked, “when I figured out the first time that you were in love with him.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“You need to break up with Lucas.”

 

Hermione had found the bruises on Harry’s ribs, after he’d been helping her carry boxes of old things she wanted to get rid of, which persisted mainly of old clothing and a few old kitchen appliances. Harry had whimpered when he’d bumped into the wall, driving the edge of the cardboard box further into his ribs and making pain flare up instantly.

 

Hermione had discovered the bruises and Harry had told her everything without even knowing what he was doing, until it was too late.

 

“I can’t,” Harry muttered, “he’ll just find me and try to hurt me.”

 

“Ron and I will be able to protect you,” Hermione said, “That's, what friends are for anyway.”

 

Harry sighed.

 

“Look, if you’re so... _worried_ about being alone, we could find you...like...a body guard or something,” Hermione sighed, she had no idea where she was going with this.

 

“I’m not pathetic Hermione.”

 

“It’s not pathetic to be afraid of something,” Hermione muttered, “or someone,” she added.

 

“Well either way,” Harry said, standing up from the couch and wincing slightly as he did so, “I’ll break up with Lucas, but I really don’t need a body guard.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“We should set you up on a date,” Pansy said from the kitchen, cutting a peanut butter and pickle sandwich in half before chucking almost one whole half into her mouth.

 

“You’re disgusting,” Draco muttered half heartedly.

 

Pansy smirked, “at least I’m not depressed over Harry Potter,” she said, her voice muffled by the food still in her mouth.

 

Draco rolled his eyes, “I’m not depressed,” he said, standing up in the Zabini’s lounge room, “I’m just...”

 

“Depressed,” she answered for him.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

It was a few weeks later that Harry was sitting at home, looking over some articles he had written for Witch Weekly, that there was a knock on his door. He sighed, got up and answered the door and instantly, without a moment’s hesitation, both Hermione and _Ginny_ Weasley walked into his apartment, looking mischievous.

 

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, “Especially you Ginny,” sounding tense and slightly infuriated. They sat down on his couch, looking at him cockily.

 

Ginny smirked, “Hermione contacted me, told me you were a depressed sack of Harry potatoes.”

 

Harry glared at Hermione, “really? Harry potatoes?”

 

“I thought it worked well,” Hermione said with a shrug, “but the pun isn’t important.”

 

“I’m here to help you get ready for a blind date,” Ginny said, “and you’re going to suck it up.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

 

“I’m not one for blind dates, Blaise,” Draco muttered as Blaise rambled on about the plans for the evening.

 

“Well, you need to get out,” Blaise said, “if you’re not willing to go back and go after Harry; then you need to find someone else, because you’re always moody when you’re alone.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes, “I’m perfectly fine on my own-.”

 

“Don’t even lie to yourself,” Blaise said, “I’ll bring Pansy in here if you want-.”

 

Draco shook his head hastily. Pansy was more brutally honest that Blaise could ever claim himself to be. If he wanted to be told how pathetic and moody and sad he was when he was alone, then Pansy would tell him straight out in the meanest possible way and he wasn’t really in the mood for that.

 

“If I go on this blind date, can I get a promotion?” Draco asked, smirking at Blaise.

 

“No, but you can get yourself a boyfriend,” Blaise said, “ten times better than a promotion, in your case.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes and continued to mope on the couch while Blaise went through where Draco would be eating and how long he wanted Draco to be out for.

 

“You want me gone for three hours?!” he asked, sounding incredulous, “what the hell type of dinner takes _three_ hours?!”

 

Blaise shrugged, “you might ‘ _get busy_ ,’ if you know what I mean,” he said with a small wink.

 

“Not on the first date.”

 

“What about with-.”

 

“With Harry it wasn’t a date,” Draco said with a roll of his eyes, sounding irritable, “it was a ploy to get him to make the deal, just so I could stay here.”

 

“But-”

 

“Blaise,” Draco growled, “just shut the fuck up.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

When Harry walked into the restaurant he hadn’t expected it to be the same restaurant that Draco had taken Harry out to that night. He hadn’t told anyone about it, so he listed it as pure coincidence. He walked through the slightly similar surroundings with a feeling of nostalgia. People’s voices were murmured as they had their conversations, there were laughs every so often. Harry had to admit he only partially liked this place. The people didn’t act like people, they acted like fakes. Their laughs, their suits – none of it made sense to Harry. Why did people need to come out to some fancy restaurant to have a good time? Why couldn’t they just stay home and order pizza? That seemed much more realistic than this.

 

But he walked towards his booked table anyway, swerving through the tables and the fancy fake people that annoyed him so much.

 

When he saw his table, he hadn’t been expecting Draco Malfoy to be sitting there, sipping from a drink of water and looking at the menu. As if sensing Harry’s presence, the blonde looked up from the menu and his eyes widened.

 

“I’m going to kill Pansy and Blaise-.”

 

“I’m going to kill Hermione and Ginny-.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Somehow, they had both calmed down enough to sit across from one another. Admittedly, the conversation was tense and awkward, but it wasn’t unfriendly. They spoke about their jobs, though they already knew what they were. They knew everything about each other as if nothing had changed. As if they were still living together and talking about their lives every day, without the awkward air around them, choking their words and making their eyes shift away from the other person every so often.

 

“It’s good to know Blaise doesn’t give you any special consideration I guess,” Harry said with a laugh, “really shows that he’s a fair boss.”

 

Draco nodded, “very true, but I always love a bit of special consideration.”

 

Harry laughed, “I know.”

 

All attempts at conversation seemed to end like that. With the other person just, knowing. But that didn’t seem to make the conversation any less entertaining, and soon, the tense air between the two was gone.

 

It was like the deal had never ended.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

When Draco got back to his apartment, smiling from ear to ear, he hadn’t expected Blaise to be waiting there, with a cocky smirk on his face. Draco rolled his eyes and sat down next to him, “what are you doing here?” Draco asked with a sigh.

 

“Waiting for you to return,” Blaise said, “how did the blind date go?”

 

Draco mentally smirked, “you didn’t tell me the guy was literally blind.”

 

Blaise frowned, “what?”

 

“When you said blind date,” Draco said, “I wasn’t expecting a literal blind guy.”

 

“Harry’s blind!?”

 

Draco smirked, “so you knew that you were setting me up on a blind date with Harry.”

 

Blaise looked like he’d been caught in a death trap, but all Draco could do was laugh.

 

“Next time, tell me who I’m seeing,” Draco said, “I felt like a total idiot,” he explained.

 

“But how did it go after the intense feeling of idiocy eventually wore off?” Blaise asked. He got up to make tea, Draco rolled his eyes; the man was practically addicted to the stuff.

 

“Well...” Draco shrugged, “there was nothing much to talk about other than work and stuff that we constantly pointed out that we already knew,” he said, “but it was nice talking to him again...” he bit his lip softly.

 

“What are you not telling me?” Blaise asked, watching Draco bite his lip. He was lying about something or at least holding something back.

 

Draco could feel his face heat up, which wasn’t really something he was all too familiar with. No matter what the situation, the only thing that would ever show he was hiding something was his goddamn lip biting. But other than that, nothing would ever show. But he couldn’t hide it from Blaise if it were so blatantly obvious that he was hiding something.

 

“I kissed him,” Draco said.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

When Harry got home, nobody was there but there was a note for him on the bench, telling him to contact them as soon as he got home about what had happened on the date. He smiled down at the letter, but he still wanted to strangle his friends for setting him up like that. Setting him up on a date with Draco without prior knowledge had been awkward as hell; they literally had nothing to talk about other than the progress they had made at work, and there was not much to discuss there either.

 

The rest of the time was either filled with a semi-comfortable silence or random spouts of meaningless conversation. It had been a good ‘date’ though, Harry had to admit that.

 

Not to mention the fact that Draco had kissed him afterwards, just as they went to talk their separate ways.

 

It had been just a peck, but it had made Harry shiver slightly, in the good kind of way that only a kiss you truly wanted could make you feel. He didn’t know whether it meant that Draco was just trying to be polite, or whether he had genuine interest in Harry. Harry knew, from experience, that Draco would do anything to hide something else. Maybe he just pecked Harry softly to make him feel like the date wasn’t a complete embarrassment. He had no idea.

 

It was messing around with his head.

 

He walked over to his desk in the other room and got out a spare piece of parchment. It had one of his old pieces on it, about Draco Malfoy being a prat. It made Harry laugh, and he thought it was the perfect thing to write a letter on the back of. He sat down at his desk and began writing out a letter, carefully, trying not to screw it up.

 

In the end, he ended up scratching out several words and it had multiple spelling mistakes due to him writing so fast, but as he looked down at the piece of parchment, he thought it seemed more sincere.

 

_Dear Draco,_

_I feel the date went well, despite the fact that we didn’t know who we were going to be seeing tonight. But I guess that is, in fact, the point of a blind date, but I don’t know ~~weather~~ whether you’re allowed to set up a blind date between two people who actually know each other, and used to date. _

_I’m confused by the kiss at the end. ~~I know you can fake many things~~ , I’m sorry that’s a really horrible thing to say. But I know that you have a habit of being able to go too far with things in order to make a point. I want to know whether the kiss was real, whether ~~oyu~~ you meant it, or whether it was for show. _

_I want to admit that I have feelings for you. In fact, I think I might be in love with you and that scares me. I thought I was in love with Lucas that one time, but this is so much more than that, and it scares me a lot, because I’m ~~owried~~ worried that you do not feel the same way._

_I’m tempted to throw out this letter now, but you need to know the truth, otherwise I will always be wondering ‘what if’ and I don’t think I can live like that. If you reject me, say it was all just a show for me to believe that we were okay, that things could possibly be at least a little less awkward between us, that would be better than wondering what could of happened if I had just sent the letter._

_Reply as soon as you can. I’m not a patient person; you know that._

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Draco Malfoy was woken up by the loud screeching of an owl, through his blurry eyes he could see that the owl was sitting on the window sill, looking had him, patiently as he slowly sat up and reached across to where the window sill was and untied the letter from the owls leg. As soon as he did, the owl flew into his room and sat at the end of his bed, he continued to look patiently at him.

 

Draco opened the letter, recognising the chicken scratch writing instantly.

 

He read the letter thoroughly and went through it multiple times. His eyes widening even further with each read. He smiled softly at the spelling mistakes and the obviously shaking hand. He felt a little frustrated, mainly with himself and not Harry, when he read about how Harry still doubted him. In the end, he had done it to himself.

 

He got out of bed hastily and reached for random assortments of clothing that were lying, scattered, across the floor. His only thought being that he had to go to Harry and he had to tell him in person. Letters were for wimps.

 

With no mind towards what he was wearing, he ran out the door, bumping into three people leaving their apartments in the process, all looking irritated about being bumped into at this time in the morning; still wearing their robes and carrying mugs of coffee, getting their mail for the day.

 

He ran straight towards the apparation point, and without hesitating a single moment to check who was within the area, to possibly seem him perform magic, he apparated, straight outside Harry’s apartment block.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Hasty knocks thundering on Harry’s door was what woke Harry up that morning. He groaned and got out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans, but not even bothering to get a shirt on, as he walked towards the front door of his apartment, telling the person behind the door to hold on and be patient.

 

When he opened the door, the last thing he expected to see was a clearly just-out-of-bed Draco. The man looked a mess. His hair untidy, his shirt buttons done up in the wrong order, his fly undone, he was almost positive the blonde’s shoes were on the wrong feet even. He was panting and looking at Harry with wide eyes.

 

“Draco, what are you-.”

 

“You’re a wimp!” Draco exclaimed, wrapping his arms around the dark haired man’s neck and kissing him deeply. Harry’s wide eyes slowly closed on their own accord, his lips slowly beginning to respond to the other mans. It felt like coming home, it felt like the missing puzzle piece finally connecting to the rest of the puzzle, it felt like heaven.

 

His hands moved around blindly for the door handle and he stepped back, dragging Draco along with him as he slammed the door shut. He found his hands travelling up Draco’s back and beginning to tug softly on his hair. He heard Draco moan slightly, fingernails digging into his back.

 

He’d missed this, and he realised that difference between this happening now, and this happening purely when the deal was on, felt no different. There was nothing more or less in the intense kiss. He wondered how long Draco had loved him for. Because he was most definitely certain that Draco Malfoy loved him.

 

He pulled away and looked into the blonde’s eyes, which were now open and surveying the dark haired man’s face with an intense gaze. He felt Draco’s fingers lightly trailing his jaw line, while Harry’s hands strayed to Draco’s hips, his hands resting on them softly. He looked relieved and Harry was sure he looked the same. A relieved, just having woken up, mess. They both were.

 

“How am I a wimp?” Harry asked suddenly, curiosity evident in his tone.

 

Draco rolled his eyes, “I just kissed the absolutely shit out of you and the only thing you got out of it was that?”

 

Harry laughed and it was the first time he had laughed for a while. It felt unfamiliar, foreign to him after two months of having barely the energy to even smile. He kissed Draco again, his hands remaining on Draco’s hips, Draco’s hands sitting on the sides of Harry’s face.

 

Everything felt right again, and for a moment it felt like nothing had ever changed.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“So...now you’re back together,” Ron muttered, looking confusedly at the pair. Harry was sitting back on the couch, his arms wrapped around Draco who was sitting on his lip. Harry smiled at Ron over Draco’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah,” Harry said, “he said that if I dated him this time he’d make sure I’d get a promotion.”

 

Draco turned and slapped the dark haired man’s arm, who simply laughed, his smile never wavering.

 

“So, you’re legitimately back together,” Hermione asked, “for real, no deals, no lies?” she looked like she was worried she would offend them by asking such a question, but Harry felt as if she had every right to ask about it.

 

“We’re legitimately back together,” Draco said, “you know, minus the fact that Harry’s only in it to get a promotion,” Draco said, glaring back at Harry who just rolled his eyes.

 

“I’m glad,” Hermione said, beaming at the two of them, “I felt you were both good for each other. You kind of evened each other out.”

 

Ron nodded beside her, smiling softly at Draco and Harry.

 

Later on that evening, when Hermione and Ron had left, Harry and Draco simply sat in the living room, talking, like a real couple. Like real people. It felt good, having no pathetic deal having over their heads. Being able to talk without worrying they were stepping over some kind of line.

 

Neither of them had felt so comfortable for a long time.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

When Harry woke up that morning, he felt long fingers trailing up and down his back, he moaned slightly and buried his face into the pillow, enjoying the sensation. He heard a chuckle come from beside him and he turned around to face Draco, who was looking at him, giving him a soft smile, his hand now resting on his back. It felt so natural.

 

“How did you sleep?” Draco asked, kissing Harry softly.

 

“Fine,” Harry said, “better than I have in a while to be honest,” he said with a smirk.

 

Draco smiled, “that’s good,” he said, “you looked so cute asleep,” he said, “I might just tire you out again.”

 

Draco moved forwards, Harry could feel the blonde’s hardness against his thigh. Harry laughed, “That was such a horrible line,” he said, Draco rolled his eyes.

 

“Just let me make love to you, you wimp.”

 

Harry smiled at that, _make love_ had become quite a common term between the two of them, occasionally they would say fuck, but it was less often than it had originally been. Draco moved under the covers, and before Harry could even realise what the blonde was doing, he could feel warm hands wrapping themselves around his cock, which had already been semi-erect, having felt Draco’s hardness that morning. He groaned, feeling Draco’s tongue press against the slit and then slowly, torturously so, he felt the blonde’s lips wrap around the head and slowly push down.

 

Harry lifted the cover off of the blonde’s head and watched, getting closer to cumming every time he saw his cock disappear between Draco’s lips. His cheeks hollowing and Draco swallowing his cock, Harry felt it press against the back of Draco’s throat, making him moan aloud, his hands moving down and fisting themselves into Draco’s hair.

 

He came with a loud, guttural moan, his seed spilling down Draco’s throat, he swallowed every drop. He panted softly as Draco’s lips slowly pulled away from his member, and the blonde moved his body up and kissed the panting man softly.

 

He reached for the bottle of lube in the bedside table drawer and poured a decent amount on his fingers, before reaching down, his finger circling Harry’s entrance before slowly pushing in, making him moan.


	17. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's finished. This is one of the fanfictions I never thought I would finish, I thought it would just have a good first chapter and the rest would go to shit from that point on, but it didn't and I'm incredibly proud of myself. 
> 
> Now, I do have a bunch more Drarry ideas up my sleeve, so if, for some weird reason, you like my writing style, stick around! I think if you subscribe to me it tells you when I have a new story up? I'm honestly not sure how this site works yet, but I'm assuming that's how it works.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the chapter and I have a special message at the bottom.

Benefits

 

EPILOGUE

 

 

 

 

It started with Harry moving into Draco’s apartment. It was apparently more to Harry’s style than the other over-fancy apartment he had lived in before; and besides, Lucas now knew where Harry’s over-fancy apartment was. He had showed up randomly within the last few weeks and was surprised to see Draco there; apparently running into two of your ex’s wasn’t a good experience.

 

“What are you doing here...?” Lucas had asked, looking at Draco curiously. Harry was in the shower; Draco had just gotten out of it and had finished getting dressed for work when he had walked into Harry’s lounge room, which had boxes full of Harry’s things, only to find Lucas sitting on the couch, waiting for Harry.

 

Draco smirked, “hello to you too Lucas.”

 

Lucas looked nervous under the gaze of Draco Malfoy, rightfully so too. Draco walked towards him, his smirk becoming less friendly and more malicious by the second, “may I ask why you are here?” he asked.

 

“I-”

 

Draco shook his head, “really, this is a new low for you. Breaking into unsuspecting ex boyfriends apartments,” he said, “but I bet you weren’t expecting _this_ particular ex boyfriend to be here, did you.”

 

Lucas left not long after that, after a rather vicious threat that if he ever tried to come near Harry again, Draco was castrate the man in his sleep. Lucas knew not to mess with Draco, he’d already tried to castrate him in his sleep once before.

 

Then, a few months after that, Draco proposed to Harry by chucking the jewellery box into his lap, then getting down on one knee.

 

“You haven’t really changed, have you,” Harry said, beaming.

 

Draco smiled and opened the box and put the ring on Harry’s finger, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

Harry nodded; the ring fit him perfectly and looked much better than the first one, probably because it meant more.

 

“And yes,” Draco said, “I haven’t really changed at all...you know...except the fact that I’ve changed a lot.”

 

And now, with sweaty palms and a giant man by his side, Harry was walking down the aisle for the second, and hopefully for the last time.

 

When he got to Draco, his nerves randomly disappeared. He came to the realisation that he shouldn’t be fretting. He loved Draco, and Draco loved him and this was real. If this didn’t work out it wasn’t like Draco and his family were going to be sent away. But Harry felt that this would work out no matter what.

 

When it came to their vows, they didn’t have any palm cards or sheets of paper, but just shared what came to mind with the whole world.

 

“Draco,” Harry started off, looking at everyone around the room, they were all listening attentively.

 

“From the moment I met you in first year I knew I had strong feelings towards you,” Harry cleared his throat, “back then, I will not lie; it was hate. But, I’ve seen the real you; the, you who will try and do anything for the people he loves, no matter how hard it may seem.”

 

His vows continued, explaining how he thought Draco was truly the only one for him and that he never wanted this to end.

 

Draco’s were similar in idea but different in words, also without little sarcastic did bits in between about Harry’s constantly messy hair and how he was a big sucker for romance, making those in the crowd laugh.

 

When it came around to saying “I Do” there was no hesitation from either of them, and kissing in front of a large crowd seemed like the easiest thing in the world.

 

They spent their honeymoon at the same place but without the overbearing guilt tearing them apart.

 

Draco kissed him harshly, pressing Harry’s back against the door and quickly taking off Harry’s clothing. His jacket was taken off, his shirt ripped off, the buttons going everywhere across the hotel room. After the shirt was taken off, Draco pinned Harry’s wrists against the door and began struggling with the man’s trousers.

 

He tugged on Harry’s cock and made the man cum down his throat before pushing them over towards the bed, where Harry spent most of the night riding him furiously.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“I love you.”

 

Draco turned to look at Harry, who was breathing softly after their love making. It made Draco smile, seeing how he could turn the other man into such a mess. His hair sticking up in several places, bite marks all over his chest and neck making his flesh all wonderfully red, and his red, bruised lips contrasting against his pale flesh was a view to die for.

 

“I love you too,” Draco said, curling up into a ball like he always used to and pushing himself closer to Harry. He propped a leg over the other man’s body in order to get comfortable. Harry didn’t mind.

 

“I...I wanted to talk to you about something,” Harry said, looking at him with nervous eyes.

 

“Oh?” Draco asked, propping up his head on one hand, his elbow digging into the pillow. He knew what topic was about to come up and he’d been waiting for it to come up for some time. He knew Harry was nervous about asking, hell, why wouldn’t he be? It was a big thing to ask.

 

“I...I really want to start a family,” Harry said, “I wanted to start one with that other fuckwit, but...” Harry rolled his eyes. He was no longer hurt by what Lucas had done to him, which made Draco feel better. It had taken Draco a while longer, however, to realise he wasn’t hurt by Lucas’s betrayal.

 

“Okay,” was all Draco said, “when?”

 

Harry frowned, “this isn’t just a ‘when’ thing Draco-.”

 

“Yes it is,” Draco said, “When do you want to start a family?” he asked, “When do you want to try with the male pregnancy potions?”

 

“You’re completely on board with this?” Harry asked, looking sceptical.

 

Draco nodded, hugging Harry, “yes,” he said, kissing the other man hungrily, “even if I have to be the pregnant one.”

 

Harry laughed, “Alright,” he muttered tiredly, “are you definitely sure.”

 

“If you ask that one more time I will smother you with my pillow.”

 

Harry kissed him, passionately, his arm wrapping around Draco’s waist and his other arm lying on Draco’s back as his hand curled into the man’s hair. He felt a tongue push into his mouth, making him moan softly. He could feel himself growing hard once more.

 

Draco pushed back, smirking at him devilishly, “time for round three?” he asked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you's too:
> 
> Chittsu   
> DiverTazSC  
> and Nani. 
> 
> And everyone else who reviewed a lot. I just remember those names coming up a lot in my emails.
> 
> Thank you all for dealing with my long breaks while I try to finish year twelve, being seventeen kind of sucks because school but apparently it's worse when you get a job (please don't tell me that, I go through massive existential crises.)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who bookmarked and kudos'd and just...thank you for being kind. Thanks for not being dicks about my possibly horrible 1AM fanfiction grammar, and I look forward to seeing you guys review on my other future stories. 
> 
> \- Teagan/Isaac.


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